(Vh 


o 

¥ 


GIFT  OF 


£-5 

V 
c- 


C 


c_ 


CONFESSIONS     TO 
A    HEATHEN   IDOL 


But  let  me  whisper  something  to  you,  O  Wise  One:  When  a  woman 
is  married  she  confesses  to  no  one,  not  even  to  a  broad- 
minded  teak-wood  Idol " 

(See  page  351) 


CONI 


TONS -TO 


FAST   LEE 

ILLUSTRATED  FROM    > 
jt  BY  FEED  EOBIN6ON 


111 


CONFESSIONS  TO 
A  HEATHEN  IDOL 


BY 

MAEIAN   LEE 

/*      jf*~~ 

ILLUSTRATED  FROM   PHOTOGRAPHS 
BY  FRED   ROBINSON 


NEW    YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,    PAGE    &    COMPANY 
1906 


iii 


COPYaiQHT,  1906,  BT  DOUBLKDAY,    PAQK  &  COMPANY 
Published  October,  1906 


All  rights  reserved,   including  that  of  translation 
into  foreign  languages,  including  th«  Scandinavian 


IV 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

i  THE  PLEASING  AGE  OF  FORTY  3 

ii  JOE  AND  MA  BELLE     ....  16 

in  THE  ANOMALOUS  MB.  MORRIS  .  24 

iv  Two  KNIGHTS  TO  THE  RESCUE  38 

v  MA  BELLE  AND    TOM  Discuss 
THE  PROBLEM-NOVEL     ...    46 

vi  THE  VAGARIES  OF  CUPID     .    .    57 
vn  THE  STORY  OF  A  MARRIED  LIFE    66 

vin  MUSINGS   CONCERNING   SECOND 

MARRIAGES.    HILDA     ...     86 

ix  A  THANKSGIVING  DINNER  AND 

CONVERSATIONAL  DESSERT     .    99 

x  Music  LAND  AND  A  VISIT  TO 
TOM 109 

xi  HILDA  PLAYS  AN   ACCOMPANI- 
MENT     119 

xn  A  COMEDY,  A  TRAGEDY,  AND  THE 

WAY  OF  THE  FOOL  .  128 


242529 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

xiii  CHRISTMAS,  A  WALK  WITH  TOM 
AND  AN  ANNUAL  SETTLEMENT 
WITH  THE  FATES  ....  143 

xiv  MA  BELLE,  HILDA  AND  TOM 
COME  TO  DINE,  AND  THEODORE 
MORRIS  MAKES  A  MORNING 
CALL 152 

xv  A  SOCIAL  FUNCTION  WHICH  WAS 

TRULY  SOCIAL 169 

xvi  MENTAL    AND    PHYSICAL     EE- 

FRESHMENTS 191 

xvii  DOMESTIC      CATACLYSMS,     AND 

THEIR  TREATMENT    ....  205 

xvm  THROUGH    THE    PINE    WOODS 

WITH  TOM 210 

xix  A  SKILFUL  WOOING      .    .    .    .219 

xx  A    NICE    AFTERNOON.      LOVE'S 

INITIATION  FEE 232 

xxi  SACK-CLOTH  AND  ASHES    .    .    .  246 
xxn  THE  SPRINGTIME  MADNESS    .    .  254 

xxin  THE  IMPATIENCE  OF  MR.  MOR- 
RIS LEADS  TO  A  CHANGE  IN 
CONFESSORS  260 

xxiv  MA  BELLE'S  STORY 265 

vi 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

xxv  THE  VIOLIN  MAKES  LOYE  TO 
THE  PIANO  WITH  STARTLING 
RESULTS 283 

xxvi  A     FLIGHT     TO    THE     HILLS. 

FRIENDS'  MEETING    ....  292 

xxvn  MARIA  DISCOURSES  ON  WIDOW- 
ERS. GERRITT  HOWLAND 
COMES  TO  TEA 311 

xxvin  A  BEWILDERING  REVELATION    .  327 

xxix  SOME  VERY  SATISFACTORY  LET- 
TERS       337 

xxx  THE  DAWN  or  A  JUNE  DAY  AND 

A  LAST  CONFESSION  .  345 


vii 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  But  let  me  whisper  something  to  you,  O 
Wise  One :  When  a  woman  is  married  she 
confesses  to  no  one,  not  even  to  a  broad- 
minded  teak- wood  Idol"  .  .  Frontispiece. 

FACING  PAGE 

' '  Come  to  think  of  it,  you  Poor  Heathen, 
you  do  not  know  what  a  kiss  is  "  .  .  142 

"  But  there  seems  to  be  no  long  stretch  of 
experience's  road  where  the  slope  is  in 
the  right  direction!" 224 

"  Confessor,  I  wish  I  knew  whether  it  is 
something  or  nothing  that  I  sometimes 
see  in  Tom's  eyes"  258 


PRINCIPAL    CHARACTERS 

THE  IDOL,  carved  from  teak- wood,  and  alleged  to  be 
the  representation  of  some  minor  deity  from  a  temple 
in  Japan. 

MARIAN  LEE,  a  widow  of  forty,  who  undertakes  to  ex- 
plain her  social  experiences  to  the  Idol.  The  mar- 
ginal notes  are  supposed  by  Marian  Lee  to  be  the 
Idol's  summaries  of  her  nightly  confessions. 

MRS.  BELLE  LEE,  the  mother-in-law  of  Marian,  and 
fondly  called  by  her  "  Ma  Belle." 

TOM  CARROLL,  a  lawyer  and  the  loyal  friend  of  Paul 
Lee,  Marian's  deceased  husband. 

THEODORE  MORRIS,  a  graduate  student,  and  a  special 
friend  of  Joe  Stillman. 

ROBERT  STILLMAN,  the  father  of  Marian  Lee,  and  a  pro- 
fessor in  a  college  situated  in  the  town  where  the 
scene  of  the  story  is  laid. 

JOE  STILLMAN,  the  young  brother  of  Marian  Lee,  an 
undergraduate  in  the  college. 

MILLIE  VAN  TYNE,  a  girl  friend  of  Joe  Stillman. 

HILDA  VINCENT,  a  young  woman,  the  intimate  friend 
of  Marian  Lee. 

GERRITT  ROWLAND,  a  Quaker  preacher  and  successful 
worker  among  the  poor  of  a  great  city. 

STEPHEN  AND  SYLVIA  SOUTHARD,  twin  brother  and  sister 
of  the  mother  of  Marian  Lee,  and  members  of  the 
Society  of  Friends. 


XI 


PROLOGUE 

YOU  are  so  bewitchingly  ugly  and,  withal,  so 
delightfully  smug.  Your  ears  are  long  and 
ornamental;  your  eyes  are  turned  upward  dis- 
creetly and  piously;  your  hair  is  arranged  in 
neat  rows  like  tiles  and  your  nose  is  hopelessly 
retrousse.  Your  smile  is  wide,  cheerful  and  full 
of  meaning;  your  teeth  are  no  respecters  of 
tradition  since  they  are  not  set  opposite,  one 
above  the  other,  but  alternate  in  a  most  original 
manner.  You  are  doubled  up  and  squatted  on 
your  tiny  feet,  your  hands  clasped  over  your 
knees  in  a  way  that  suggests  that  you  are  suffer- 
ing an  inward  pain — a  suggestion  belied  by 
your  comprehensive  smile.  You  are  a  fascinating 
creation  in  teak-wood,  and  as  you  sit  enthroned 
in  your  temple  above  my  desk,  you  arouse  in  me 
strange  thoughts  and  desires. 

When  my  polished  and  truly  gentle  friend, 
Mr.  Otsaki,  sent  you  to  me  from  far  Japan,  he 
wrote  that  letter  hidden  beneath  the  rug  under 
your  feet,  and  it  says : 

Dear  Madam  and  kind  Friend:  I  to-day  send 
you  idol  as  I  promised.  I  secure  him  by  bad 


PROLOGUE 

priest  who  sell  worshipped  idol  for  money.  I 
think  you  like  him  very  much.  The  priest  say 
he  is  real  idol  of  good  health  but  I  not  sure.  I 
have  never  worship  idols  because  I  Shinto;  so 
I  cannot  tell  you  more  except  he  is  true  idol. 

Please  send  my  kind  greetings  your  honored 
Father  and  Brother.  Thanking  you  for  your 
ever  kindness  to  me  I  am  always  sincerely  and 
humble 

your  friend 

K.  OTSAKL 

P.S.  I  could  get  you  stone  idol  but  he  so 
heavy  I  think  you  like  teak-wood  him  better  to 
send  to  America  K.  0. 

Scant  information  this  about  a  real  god.  I  do 
not  know  even  your  name  or  your  specialty,  and 
I  am  glad  it  is  so;  for  you  are  my  one  and  only 
idol  and  therefore  must  stand  for  all  things. 

The  more  I  look  at  you  the  mote  I  see  to  ad- 
mire. There  is  good  humor  and  tolerance  shin- 
ing through  your  ugliness.  I  detect  in  you  a 
fair  and  unsqucamish  spirit  which  leads  you  to 
deal  with  the  good  and  evil  of  this  world  simply. 
Whatever  you  see  you  label  truthfully;  and  you 
will  never  gnash  your  mismated  teeth  nor  tear 
your  tiled  hair  in  horror  and  wrath  if  you  chance 
to  find  wickedness  sandwiched  in  virtue.  Such 


PROLOGUE 

a  one  I  have  been  longing  for  all  my  life — 
someone  to  judge  human  experience  fairly — 
someone  who  neither  excuses  nor  condemns  the 
bad,  but  calls  it  by  its  honest  name  and  lets  it 
go — someone  who  will  not  exalt  nor  disparage 
the  good  but  will  give  it  its  just  place  in  the 
economy  of  being.  I  have  longed  for  a  fair  and 
unprejudiced  judge  of  the  vicissitudes  of  human 
experience  and  at  last  have  found  it  in  dispas- 
sionate teak-wood. 

But  though  you  are  all  that  I  have  longed  for, 
I  do  not  intend  to  worship  you,  nor  say  my 
prayers  to  you.  Your  work  as  a  god  you  left 
behind  you  in  the  land  of  the  lotus  and  the  pine. 
You  will  have  a  different  but  no  less  onerous 
position  in  your  new  temple,  for  you  are  to  be 
confessor  to  strictly  honest  confessions.  I  shall 
not  come  to  you  for  absolution,  although  I  may 
confess  to  you  many  venial  sins.  If  I  do  tell 
you  of  my  sins  it  will  be  for  the  sake  of  hearing 
them  vocalised  so  that  I  may  judge  them  for 
myself.  So  Mitch  of  our  inner  living  is  vague 
because  it  is  never  chained  to  judgment  by 
words. 

Neither  have  I  committed  murder  nor  have  I 
intentionally  wronged  my  fellow-men;  it  is  no 
weight  of  sin  that  impels  ms  to  confession.  It 
is  simply  a  desire  to  walk  in  the  light  rather 
than  in  the  darkness  that  makes  me  wish  to  place 


PROLOGUE 

before  you  the  difficulties  and  perplexities  of 
common-place  experience — to  point  out  to  you 
the  confusing  complexity  of  the  straggling 
threads  on  the  wrong  side  of  monotonous,  un- 
eventful daily  life.  Moreover,  0  Idol,  I  desire 
to  whisper  to  you  some  of  the  amusing  things 
which  I  have  discovered  all  by  myself  during 
the  interesting  days  which  have  made  for  me 
my  several  years. 


CONFESSIONS     TO 
A    HEATHEN    IDOL 


CONFESSIONS 
TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  PLEASING  AGE  OF  FORTY 

SEPTEMBER  IST  : — And  finally,  at  forty,  it 
has  come  to  this— I  make  confession  to   With  gray 

heathen  gods  !    At  ten  I  confided  to  my  most  hair>  life 

becomes 
adored  girl  friend ;  at  twenty  I  confided  all  I  amusing 

knew  to  my  husband  and  could  not  understand 
why  he  was  so  bored ;  at  thirty  I  confided  to 
no  one,  for  I  had  discovered  many  things  that 
were  best  not  mentioned ;  at  forty  I  find  my- 
self out  of  deep  waters  and  sporting  in  the 
shallows.  By  the  time  the  first  gray  hairs  are 
earned,  life  becomes  amusing,  and  one  gayly 
waves  a  hand  at  it  instead  of  wringing  both 
3 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

hands  tragically  because  of  it.  This  is  the 
reason  I  make  daily  confession  to  a  grinning 
teak- wood  god.  What  I  think  is  not  worthy 
of  serious  confession,  but  must  be  told  to  one 
who  smiles  as  if  he  understood. 

Father  remarked  to  me  across  the  break- 
fast table  this  morning : 

"  Marian,  you  are  getting  to  be  a  benign 
old  party."  But  Joe  took  the  matter  up  like 
the  true  young  knight  he  is  and  said  : 

"  Nay,  nay !  Mamie  may  be  benign  and 
she  often  is  a  party,  but  old— never." 

I  smiled  at  them  both.  Father  knows  that 
A  year  lived  growing  old  is  as  comfortable  as  it  is  respect- 

is  a  year  able  and  inevitable.     He  knows  that  I  look 
earned 

upon  a  year  lived  as  a  year  earned  j— and 

that  each  year  earned  means  greater  treasure 
of  experience  and  power  laid  up  against  time 
of  need.  It  is  only  when  growing  old  means 
cessation  of  development  that  it  is  to  bev 
feared.  But  Joe,  in  his  twentieth  year,  could 
hardly  understand  this,  and  he  would  not 
allow  the  epithet  "  old  "  to  be  applied  to  his 
playmate  sister,  even  if  she  is  twice  his  age 
and  has  been  his  mother  as  well.  Dear  Idol, 
4 


THE  PLEASING  AGE  OF  FORTY 

it  was  when  I  was  a  widow  at  twenty-four 
that  I  was  old ;  I  was  then  so  old  that  no 
matter  how  many  years  may  be  added  to  my 
life,  I  can  never  again  be  so  old.  Truth  to 
tell,  I  am  twenty  years  younger  than  I  was 
then. 

The  only  bit  I  '11  confess  to  you  this  eve- 
ning of  my  fortieth  birthday  is  that  I  have  Lees  as  a 
always  found  it  an  illuminating  experience  mora^'factor 
to  be  obliged  to  drink  to  the  dregs  the  vari-  ^ 
ous  concoctions  I  have  made  for  myself, 
whether  they  have  been  of  the  intoxicating 
sort  or  the  safer  kind  ; — the  lees  of  the  oldest 
wine,  by  the  way,  being  no  worse  than  the 
last  insipid  mouthful  of  a  lemon-soda.  The 
one  who  luxuriously  sips  only  the  bead  of 
Life's  brew  gains  very  little  wisdom  and  small 
conception  of  that  humorist— Fate.  I  am 
glad  that  I  have  had  what  Joe  would  term 
"  the  sand  "  to  drink  to  the  last  drop  every 
experience  of  every  day  of  my  life  and  make 
no  wry  face. 

I    am   getting    accustomed    to   "  comfy "  interested 
years  and  am  quite  reconciled  to  becoming  versus 

interesting 

uninteresting,   iust   because   it  is   so    much 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

easier.  It  is  much  more  worth  while  to  be 
interested  than  to  be  interesting ;  and  it  is 
more  truly  youthful  also  j— for  to  be  interested 
is  natural,  egotistical  and  delightful ;  while 
to  be  interesting  is  unnatural,  altruistic  and 
a  bore. 

SEPTEMBER  15TH :— I  may  as  well  confess 
perturbing  to-night  in  your  capacious  teak-wood  ear 
caller  ^^  ^G  chief  event  of  this  day  was  a  call  from 
Tom  Carroll.  Not  that  Tom  calls  so  seldom, 
as  that  a  call  from  him  is  likely  to  turn  out 
such  a  trying  experience  that  it  demands  con- 
sideration. He  was  Paul's  dearest  friend  and 
during  our  brief  four  years  of  married  life  he 
was  almost  a  member  of  our  household.  He 
stood  by  me  stanchly  during  the  hard  years 
which  followed  j  but  after  a  time  we  some- 
how drifted  apart,  and  have  never  regained 
the  old,  familiar  footing  during  these  many, 
later  years.  Since  I  am  confessing,  I  might 
as  well  say  that  this  has  always  hurt  me ;  but 
it  is  his  own  choosing,  so  how  can  I  help  it ! 

You  look  vaguely  questioning,  as  if  you 
were    wondering    what    this    man    is   like 
6 


THE  PLEASING  AGE  OF  FORTY 

whose  presence  invites  confession.  I  fear  I 
can  describe  Mm  to  you  but  imperfectly.  A  man  with  c 
How  shall  I  begin?  He  is  broad-shouldered,  nice  smiu 
not  too  tall,  and  has  clean  shaven  and  clear- 
cut  features ;  he  stands  straight  and  looks 
the  world  in  the  face  with  keen  gray  eyes 
Two  of  his  physical  characteristics  are  strik- 
ing,—his  smile  and  his  hands  j  in  the  latter, 
strength  and  sensitiveness  unite  to  make  that 
rarest  of  masculine  attractions,— beautiful 
hands.  But  how  shall  I  convey  to  you  all 
the  subtlety  of  his  smile  !  It  is  a  frank  smile 
with  the  physical  advantage  of  revealing 
perfect  teeth  j  and  yet  despite  the  frankness 
there  is  in  it  a  little  cynicism ;  not  rank 
cynicism  but  tolerant,  humorous  cynicism,  of 
the  sort  that  comprehends  all  the  world's 
weaknesses  and  shams  and  finds  them  worth 
smiling  at. 

Tom  is  full  of  surprises,  yet  is  often  tediously 
disappointing.     He  is   occasionally  brusque  An 

and  arbitrary,  yea.  almost  brutal ;   I  adjust  intcrestin9 

perplexity 

myself  patiently  to  this  mood,  when  he  un- 
expectedly says  or  does  something  which  lifts 
him  to  the  level  of  the  truly  great ;  I  re- 
7 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

adjust  myself  to  a  properly  worshipful  atti- 
tude, when  down  he  comes  with  a  crash  to  the 
hopelessly  commonplace.  Sometimes  we  look 
at  each  other  with  understanding  and  ex- 
quisite sympathy  j  then,  again,  he  fails  utterly 
to  comprehend  my  standpoint  or  to  make  me 
respect  his. 

Thus  it  is  that  life  with  Tom  in  it  is  any- 
Being  thing  but  monotonous.     I  have  finally  con- 

grateful  ciu^e^  y^t  after  gji   j  am  no  reaj  personality 
an  arid 

experience  to  him.  I  am  simply  Paul's  widow— some- 
thing to  look  after  and  care  for,  but  by  no 
means  somebody  on  my  own  account.  Well, 
I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  grateful,  but  being 
grateful  is  sometimes  a  rather  arid  experi- 
ence. Now  don't  turn  pale,  little  god,  but 
it  is  the  truth  that  I  would  sooner  be  down- 
right bad  than  grateful.  There  is  something 
depressing  in  the  way  we  have  to  be  good 
and  grateful  whether  we  wish  to  or  not. 

We  are  puny  wretches  and  cowards  to  the 

Conventional-  last  degree  when  it  comes  to  standing  by 

ity  a  clue  to  ^^urg  35  opposed  to  convention.     But  why 

our  intentions, 

rather  than  to  do  *  rebel?    Nature  is  a  selfish  brute;  and 
our  desires  after  all,  conventionality  is  a  blundering  step 

8 


THE  PLEASING  AGE  OF  FORTY 

toward  altruism  —  an  attempt  to  guide  our- 
selves by  rules  that  give  others  a  clue  to  our 
intentions  rather  than  our  desires. 

SEPTEMBER  16TH  :  —  To-night,  at  Joe's  earnest 

request,  I  broke  my  record  of  twenty  years'   Chaperoning, 


standing  :  I  went  as  a  chaperon  to  a  dance  a 

occupation 

given  at  his  fraternity  house,  an  experience  I 
had  sedulously  avoided  heretofore.  How- 
ever, this  time  I  went  and  sat  in  divers  corners 
and  tried  to  be  interesting  to  whomsoever  the 
tide  of  dance-program  left  stranded  on  my 
lonely  shore.  It  was  a  painful  and  labored 
performance  at  best.  I  adore  boys,  and  there 
were  among  those  who  sat  beside  me  to-night 
several  whom  I  might  have  stalked  or  baited 
to  conversational  capture  had  they  been  in  the 
hunting  grounds  of  my  own  drawing  room. 
But  they  were  hopelessly  vapid  and  restless 
to-night  ,*  such  a  blight  on  social  effort  is  the 
egotism  of  youth  which  devoutly  believes 
that  the  sight  of  dizzy  dancers  is  one  of  the 
coveted  privileges  of  age.  Thank  heaven  Joe 
is  not  a  girl  !  Henceforth  the  mamma  of  the 
girl  of  his  choice  may  do  his  chaperoning. 
9 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

The  mother  of  the  girl  is  the  natural  victim  ; 
let  the  mother  of  boys  be  glad  for  what  she  is 
spared. 

One  youth,  rather  more  mature  than  the 
A  beautiful  others,  a  graduate  student  Joe  says,  interested 

man,  a  cum-  me   a  ^tle.      He   is   very    handsome    with 
berer  of  the 

earth  rather  delicate  features,  large  brown  eyes, 

and  thin  lips  covered  by  a  most  correct 
moustache.  I  found  him  interesting  because 
he  was  so  wofully  bored  and  not  because  he 
was  beautiful— a  merely  beautiful  man  being, 
in  my  opinion,  a  cumberer  of  the  earth.  He 
sat  beside  me  a  long  time  as  immobile  as  your- 
self, my  Graven  Image,  his  eyes  listlessly  fol- 
lowing Millie  Van  Tyne  as  she  two-stepped 
and  blushed  and  flirted  in  a  delightful  and 
wholesome  manner.  A  socially  wholesome 
A  wholesome  girl,  by  the  way,  is  likely  to  flirt  just  as  a  bird 
girl-flirt  sings  or  a  flower  blossoms  j  she  does  not  have 
any  designs  on  the  hearts  of  men,  but  her  high 
spirits  and  joyousness  just  froth  over  into 
flirtsomeness.  Well,  Sir  Indifference  sat  at 
my  side  watching  Millie  and  every  time  I 
made  a  desperate  dash  at  conversation,  he 
answered  with  all  the  conventional  common- 
10 


THE  PLEASING  AGE  OF  FOETY 

place  of  a  man  come  to  life  from  a  tailor's 
fashion  plate.  In  comparison  with  him  the 
little  Bigelow  boy,  who  guilelessly  asked  me 
if  I  did  not  wish  that  I  were  young  so  that  I 
could  dance,  was  a  joy  and  relief. 

SEPTEMBER  I?TH:— Perhaps  a  supreme  test 

of  character  is  shown  in  our  way  of  dealing   Coping  with  a 

with  inevitable    nuisances.     It  is  always   a  nuisance>  a 

test  of  char- 
question  how  much  one  ought  to  endure  pa-   acter 

tiently  and  then  what  is  wisest  to  do  when 
one  stops  enduring.  I  might  as  well  confess 
to  you  to-night,  O  Smiling  Serenity  !  that  we 
are  in  the  throes  of  enduring  at  the  present 
time.  My  poor,  sweet  step-mamma's  mother 
is  making  us  a  visit ;  and  she  is  an  old  lady 
with  nerves  that  compass  her  about  like  a 
barbed  wire  fence  and  lacerate  quite  inci- 
dentally every  one  in  her  vicinity. 

Father  has  retired  to  his  study  and   in- 
trenched himself  behind  a  cold  in  the  head   The  efficacy 
and  reticence.    Joe  has  suddenly  developed  a  °f  sll/inin9 
conscientiousness    about    his    college    work 
which  keeps  him  away  from  the  bosom  of  his 
family  pretty  constantly.    The  servants  are 
11 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

in  a  state  of  sullen,  sodden  revolt.  But  I 
shine  on  unperturbed,  simply  because  I  can- 
not make  up  mind  what  to  do  that  will  prove 
more  efficacious  than  shining. 

Tom  Carroll  called  to-night  and  grandma 
improved  the  occasion  to  complain  of  many 
things;  she  finally  capped  the  climax  by 
insinuating,  I  do  not  know  how,  for  Satan 
surely  helps  her  to  innuendo,  that  he  had  kept 
"  Marian  "  waiting  too  long.  But  Tom  is  not 
one  to  be  crushed  by  an  attack  like  that  and 
he  answered  cheerfully : 

"  I  am  here,  Madam,  several  times  a  week  ; 
should  Marian  want  me,  all  she  has  to  do  is 
to  stoop  and  pick  me  up."  He  made  me  a 
profound  bow  and  grandma  looked  trium- 
phant as  if  she  had  done  me  a  great  favor. 
When  Tom  went,  I  followed  him  to  the  door 
with  some  vague  purpose  of  apologizing. 

"  Confound  it !  Marian  why  do  you  smile 
and  endure  it?"  he  whispered  savagely. 

"  My  smile  has  become  fixed  so  far  as  she 
The  value  oj  a  is  concerned.  I  cannot  change  it  even 
fixed  smile  though  the  muscles  do  ache." 

"  All  right,  keep  on  being  amiable  and  be 
12 


THE  PLEASING  AGE  OF  FOKTY 

trampled  under  foot  if  it  suits  you, "  he  ex- 
claimed with  disgust. 

"  Oh,  don't  scold  me  !  I  cannot  stand  it ;"  I 
cried  nervously,  and  I  fear  the  tears  were  An  unexpect- 
near  enough  to  my  voice  to  dampen  it  j  and  e<*  Jielp 
then— and  then  something  happened  which 
had  not  happened  before  since  Paul  lay  dead  in 
the  house  and  this  man  sought  to  comfort  me 
—he  raised  my  hand  to  his  lips.  It  was  just 
a  touch,  not  really  a  kiss.  But  the  world 
seems  a  better  place  now;  and  my  rasped 
nerves  are  all  upholstered  in  velvet  and 
grandma  cannot  reach  them  if  she  does  her 
worst.  Such  is  the  help  derived  from  the 
sympathy  of  an  undemonstrative  friend  ! 

SEPTEMBER  18TH:— "Wooden  Image,  do  you 
realize  how  many  of  our  mortal  days  we  have  The  unusual 
to  live  through  and  how  few  we  are  privileged     u*y  a  ways 
to  truly  live  ?  Days  when  one  wishes  at  dawn 
that  it  were  sunset  because  of  the  unsatis- 
fying hours  which  must  intervene— days  of 
fretful,  unexpected  duties,  that  take  one  away 
from  wholesome  living.     The  unusual  duty  is 
almost  always  exhausting ;  I  detest  the  un- 
13 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

usual  with,  a  perfect  detestation  which  ought 
to  touch  a  sympathetic  chord  in  your  unvary- 
ing breast. 

I  am  never  so  well  satisfied  with  my  life  as 
The  way  to  when  I  drink  it  every  day  from  day -dawn  to 

quaff  life's  star-dawn  in  hearty,  thirsty    swallows,  and 
brew 

find  no  time  to  sit  and  reflect  upon  the  flavor 

and  wonder  if  another  brand  had  better 
suited  me. 

I  am  convinced  that  productive  labor  is  the 
Wood-carving  best  of  all  our  activities  to  make  the  day 

™  influence   happV  and  the  night  satisfie<L     I  have  never 
ceased  to  be  grateful  that  in  those  desperate 

days  of  my  early  widowhood  I  learned  to 
use  my  hands  to  some  purpose.  Wood-carv- 
ing may  not  be  the  highest  form  of  art,  but 
it  is  one  of  Art's  worthy  ministers  j  and  it  has 
been  the  saving  of  me  as  surely  as  it  has  been 
the  shaping  of  you,  small  god.  I  loved  the 
work  from  the  first,  and  the  fact  that  I  really 
achieved  a  fair  success  in  it  has  always  been 
a  comfort  to  me. 

A  woman  is  so  given  to  frittering  away  her 
energies  because  of  her  many  interests  !    The 
diversity  of  her  duties  lead  almost  inevitably 
14 


THE  PLEASING  AGE  OF  FORTY 

to  lack  of  definite  purpose  and  concentration. 
Tom  Carroll  helped  me  to  overcome  these  Feminine 
feminine  disabilities ;  I  remember  well,  he  frittering 
said  to  me,  "Don't  be  a  woman  in  this  one 
particular,  Marian ;  just  taste  the  joy  of 
doing  something  you  do  not  have  to  do,  suffi- 
ciently well  so  that  it  will  be  of  value  in  the 
world's  marts.'7  But  it  happened"  that  no 
sooner  had  I  really  mastered  my  work  than  I 
was  called  home  by  the  death  of  my  dear 
little  step-mother,  and  instead  of  carving 
wood  I  was  obliged  to  give  my  energies  to 
shaping  Joe,  which  has  proved  a  most  absorb- 
ing occupation. 


15 


CHAPTER  II 

JOE  AND  MA  BELLE 

SEPTEMBER   18TH    (  Continued)  :— Of    one 
„ ,.,_„  ,.JV          thing  I  am  entirely  convinced  :  A  woman 

versus  cannot  carry  on  a  business  successfully  and  be 
domesticity 

an  efficient  mistress  of  a  house  and  train  well 

a  lively  boy  all  simultaneously,  unless  she 
hath  at  her  behest  many  ministers  plenipo- 
tentiary. My  first  duties  have  always  been 
the  care  of  father  and  Joe  and  the  home. 
But  a  thousand  times  I  have  thanked  God 
that  I  had  a  work  which  I  loved  in  a  work- 
room away  from  the  house  and  all  its  cares. 
That  cosy,  chip -littered  room  of  mine  in  the 
second  story  of  the  carriage  house  has  been  a 
place  where  I  could  always  find  peace  and 
comfort ;  and  more  than  all,  strength  for  my 
duties  as  daughter,  mother  and  housekeeper. 

Healing  the  It  was  the  resting  place  where  the  collar-galls 

cottar-gate  cooled  and  healed. 

16 


JOE  AND  MA  BELLE 

I  would  prescribe  as  a  means  of  preserving 
sanity   and  sound  nerves  to  the   wives  and  A  prescrip- 

mothers  of  the  land,  that  they  each  have  tionforPre~ 

serving  samty 

some  avocation  which  may  be  pursued  stead- 
fastly even  though  intermittently,  apart  from 
household  duties.  Such  a  work  clears  the 
mind  and  temper  of  tangles ;  it  is  like  the 
shadow  of  a  rock  in  a  weary  land.  I  believe  it 
was  the  knitting  and  the  spinning  and  the 
weaving  that  enabled  our  great-grandmothers 
to  bring  up  such  large  families  with  efficience 
and  serenity  j  for  these  old-fashioned  occu- 
pations have  in  them  the  mentally  calming 
influence  for  which  I  am  pleading. 

During  all  these  years  I  have  never  been 
so  perplexed  about  Joe  nor  so  worried  over  Drop 

housekeeping    trials    that  I  have  not  been 

crawl  out  of 
able  to  find  forgetfulness  and  rest  when  I 

barred  that  work-room  door  and  took  up  my 
dear  tools.  Half  the  worries  of  life  crawl 
away  out  of  sight,  the  moment  one  drops 
them  ;  and  even  if  one  finds  them  again  they 
seem  to  have  shrunken. 

Thanks   to  this    work   more  than  to  my 
wisdom,  I  have  reared  Joe  in  a  manner  which 
17 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

even  grandma  declares  a  success.  He  is  a 
The  up-bring-  fine,  truthful,  manly  boy  with  one  clear 
mg  of  Joe  conception  which  is  ethical  in  effect,  if  not 
inherently  so  :  He  takes  the  consequences  of 
his  own  unwise  acts  like  a  man  and  a  hero. 
I  feel  great  pride  when  I  note  how  I  have 
taught  him  to  measure  the  great  world  in 
his  own  little  pint- cup  of  experience.  His 
college  chums  aver  that  he  is  "  level-headed  " 
and  I  know  he  is  warm  hearted  j  and  what 
more  can  a  mother  ask  for  in  a  son  if  he  is 
warm  hearted  and  level  headed  ! 

Thus  it  is  that  I  do  not  worry  much  about 
Joe,  even  when  I  see  him  leading  that  silly 
little  Dolly  Pease  into  dim  tete-a-tete  corners 
as  he  did  at  the  dance  the  other  night.  I 
asked  him  the  next  morning  if  he  thought 
she  appeared  to  a  better  advantage  in  dark 
places.  He  laughed  at  me  and  answered 
teasingly : 

"Mamie,  do  you  remember  what  you  told 

The  sad  re-  me  when  I  broke  my  arm  sliding  down  the 

suits  of  lack  bannister?  You  picked  me  up  and  sent  for 

the  doctor,  but  you  said  then  gently  but 

firmly  what  you  said  every  time  I  complained 

18 


JOE  AND  MA  BELLE 

about  the  pain  too  loudly  afterward :  '  Joe, 
this  is  what  happens  to  a  boy  who  tries  to 
slide  down  bannisters  when  he  hasn't  grip 
enough  to  hold  on.7  Now,  sister,  if  I  have  n't 
grip  enough  to  hold  on,  I  won't  whimper, 
whatever  breaks."  I  laughed  and  he  knew 
that  I  understood.  There  is  n't  any  doubt 
about  it,  children  come  into  the  world  to 
educate  their  elders.  When  I  think  what  my 
life  might  have  been  without  the  development 
which  the  care  of  Joe  has  brought  to  me,  I 
quail  before  the  prospect.  Yes,  Joe  is  a  com- 
fort, even  if  he  did  remark  irreverently  about 
you,  my  Idol,  that  you  look  so  embryonic 
that  you  ought  to  be  kept  in  a  bottle  of  alcohol. 

SEPTEMBER  19TH  :— The  cricket-heart  of  Sep- 
tember is  beating  but  slowly  to-night ;  the  Nature's 

lower   temperature  cools  somewhat  the  ar-  songs  °f  con~ 

tent 
dor  of  the  little  fiddlers  in  the  trees.    What  are 

the  sounds  of  supreme  content  in  nature  in 
Japan,  my  Confessor  ?  Here  we  have  this  mo- 
notonous cadence  of  the  little  white  crickets  in 
the  trees ;  the  sound  of  sleepily  blinking  cows 
chewing  their  cuds ;  the  purr  of  the  cat  on  the 
19 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

hearth-rug  j  the  last  peep  of  the  chick  as  it 
nestles  under  the  warm  feathers  of  the  mother 
hen  5  the  soft  beat  of  gentle  waves  on  a  sandy 
beach ;  and  perhaps  the  most  contented  and 
cosy  sound  of  all  is  the  hushed  gurgle  of  the 
ice-bound  brook. 

I  feel  in  sympathy  with  all  contented  things 
to-night,  for  grandma  went  home  this  after- 
noon j  and  thank  Providence  !  I  smiled  on  her 
from  start  to  finish.  I  am  constrained  to  be- 
lieve also  that  hidden  somewhere  in  her  rag- 
bag of  nerves  is  a  decided  fondness  for  me. 
Father  waxed  cheerful  at  dinner  to-night  and, 
laying  aside  professorial  dignity,  acted  like  a 
boy  with  Joe.  I  inadvertently  remarked  that 
it  was  a  wonder  that  a  woman  so  unfit  for 
enjoying  life  should  have  lived  so  long,  and 
father  added : 

"  Maybe  the  fit  who  survive  are  the  unfit 

A  new  theory  who  kill  off  everyone  else.'7     Thus  encour- 
of 'the survival   aged   Joe  spoke  up  . 
of  the  fittest 

"  Grandma  is  a  case  of  give  7em  fits,"  at 

which  I  was  obliged  to   assume   an  air  of 

severity  to  restrain  my  naughty  boys.    But  it 

certainly  is  strange  how  a  woman  with  good 

20 


JOE  AND  MA  BELLE 

intentions  can  manage  to  set  all  the  nerves  in 
her  neighborhood  on  edge !  I  have  always  Wicked 
had  a  theory  that  she  was  given  morbidly  to  ^^  ™ 
thinking  of  the  most  dreadful  thing  possible  Meeting 
to  say  in  a  given  situation,  and  then  impul- 
sively blurting  it  out.  I  remember  when,  as 
a  small  girl,  I  went  with  my  mother  to 
Friends'  Meeting  I  found  the  silence  long  and 
oppressive ;  whereat  I  was  wont  to  imagine 
what  they  all  would  do  if  I  should  jump  up  on 
the  seat  and  shout  and  scream  "  darn  !  darn  ! 
darn  !  "  this  word  being  my  ideal  of  real  pro- 
fanity. Sometimes  it  seemed  as  if  I  must  do 
this  just  to  see  what  would  happen  as  the 
result.  Since  grandma  has  been  here  this 
time  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  she 
talks  on  the  same  principle. 

SEPTEMBER  20TH  :— I  went  this  afternoon  to 
see  my  rnamma-in-law.      In   your   country,   A  special  kind 
Mr.  Image,  the  mother-in-law  is  a  great  per-  °f a 
sonage ;  but  she  is  n't  to  be  compared  with 
mine,  for  mine  is  the  most  interesting  woman 
that  ever  lived  in  any  country.     She  is  beau- 
tiful, too,  with  her  white  hair,  rosy  cheeks 
21 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

and  glowing,  dark  eyes.  If  there  was  ever  a 
A  "brick"  tonic  in  human  form,  she  is  one  ;  she  makes  a 
defined  funny  pretense  of  being  cynical,  but  she  is  the 
warmest  hearted  and  most  truly  helpful  per- 
son I  know.  She  is  a  brick  !  Now,  of  course, 
you  poor  Heathen,  you  do  not  know  what 
that  term  means  j  but  a  brick  is— is  some- 
body widely  satisfactory ;  and  Ma  Belle  is  a 
brick  of  gold  in  time  of  need,  and  also  in  time 
of  need  she  is  occasionally  a  brick-bat.  "When 
I  married  her  only  son  and  so  gained  the 
right  to  call  her  "  mother,"  I  found  that  I 
could  not,  for  some  reason  quite  inexplicable, 
bring  myself  to  call  her  so  in  a  natural 
manner.  I  found  instead,  that  I  longed  for  a 
pet  name  for  her  which  should  be  all  my  own, 
and  which  I  need  not  share  even  with  Paul. 
Ma  Belle  She  was  christened  "  Belle  "  and  this  name  fits 
her  perfectly,  but  of  course  I  could  not  call 
her  that ;  so  I  called  her  ma  belle  at  first  be- 
cause she  was  "my  beautiful."  Later  I 
changed  it  to  Ma  Belle  because  she  soon  came 
to  be  my  own  dear  Mother  Belle,  the  wisest 
and  most  adorable  mother  in  the  whole  round 
world,  and  I  know  she  likes  to  have  me  call 
her  Ma  Belle. 

22 


JOE  AND  MA  BELLE 

She  said  to  me  in  discusssing  our  recent 
visitor : 

"When  the  Recording  Angel  hands  over 
the  account  of  almost  any  mortal  to  the  Insanity  not  a 
great  Judge,  he  may  say  <Be  merciful,  for  ******** 
this  one  is  crazy'  5  and  the  Judge  will  answer  : 
( Forsooth,  every  one  is  crazy,  that  is  no  ex- 
cuse ' $  and  he  will  be  right  too.  Grandma 
Leech  has  a  mania  for  disturbing  all  things 
that  might  otherwise  be  comfortable,  and 
she  ought  to  be  punished ;  and  you,  my  dear 
Marian,  have  a  mania  for  smiling  at  all 
things  whether  the  Lord  intended  them  to  be 
smiled  at  or  not,  and  you  ought  to  be  punished 
too.  You  might  as  well  wear  a  painted  grin, 
like  a  clown." 

"  But  Ma  Belle,"  I  interrupted,  "the  clown 
jingles  his  own  bells,  so  his  grin  needs  to  be   TWO  different 
painted;  but  I  let  other  folks  do  the  jingling  «^  °f 
and  therefore  I  laugh  naturally."     At  which 
she  smiled  and  said  I  was  her  "  own  child  "  5 
Ma  Belle  likes  to  have  me  talk  back. 


23 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  ANOMALOUS  ME.  MORRIS 

SEPTEMBER  22ND  :— Did  you  ever  happen 
„  „„.„.*„  «-,-          to   discover   on  the   other  side   of  the 
ptorations  worid  that  the  ways   of  men   are  amazing 
strange  and  that  this  is  the  reason  why  a 
woman's  experience  with  them  is  always  like 
a  voyage  .of  exploration  ?    This  is  true  on 
our  side  of  the  world,  anyway,  and  I  went 
to-night  on  a  voyage  toward  the  north  pole. 
That  beautiful  and  correct  youth,  Mr.  Theo- 
dore Morris  called  j  he  is  the  one  I  mentioned 
to  you  after  I  came  home  from  the  dance  the 
other  night.      This  evening  he  was  still  worse 
An  appall-  than  before  j  he  was  simply  a  painted  ship 

ingly  polite  on  ^he  painted  ocean  of  conversation,  so  per- 
conversation 

fectly  did  he  reflect  himself  in  his  talk.     I  do 

not  believe  that  ever  in  my  life  before  did  I 
carry  on  such  a  stupidly  conventional 
discourse.  Neither  my  mind  nor  my  tongue 

24 


THE  ANOMALOUS  ME.  MOREIS 

are  fitted  to  conventional  grooves ;  but  this 

man  is  so  forceful  in  his  nerveless  indifference  A  soul  with  a 

that  he  bowled  me  down  the  alley  of  twaddle  moustache  <™ 

anomaly. 
about  weather,  opera  and  lectures  as  if  that 

were  my  natural  path.  While  my  words 
pattered  along  at  a  decent  trot,  I  was,  in  my 
mind,  trying  to  picture  his  soul  j  and  I  could 
not  even  imagine  it  without  that  carefully 
curled  moustache.  Even  if  you  are  made 
out  of  teak,  you  must  know,  little  god,  that 
a  soul  with  a  moustache  is  an  anomaly.  I 
can  usually  see  how  people's  souls  look ;  the 
only  features  really  necessary  to  a  soul  are 
eyes,  the  rest  may  well  be  veiled.  Belle-mare's 
eyes  would  pierce  all  concealments  and  see 
things  as  they  are.  Tom's  keen  gray  eyes 
must  be  quizzical  and  baffling  even  if  they 
were  the  eyes  of  a  soul ;  but  this  man 's  eyes, 
large  and  beautiful  like  those  of  a  brunette 
bisque  dollie— his  eyes  do  not  belong  to  a 
soul  nearly  so  much  as  does  his  moustache. 
Every  attempt  to  see  beyond  the  glass  sur- 
face of  those  eyes  was  a  futile  search  into 
nothingness.  If  he  comes  again,  I  will  surely 
shock  him,  if  I  have  to  go  back  to  my  child- 
25 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

ish   naughtiness    and   shout  "darn"  in    the 
midst  of  one  of  his  formal  sentences. 


SEPTEMBER  25TH  :— I   feel  introspective  to- 
Beware  of  night    and    you    had    best    stop    grinning, 

woman  m  ^n-       u  overfill  Image,  for  a  woman  in  an  in- 
trospective   J 

mood  trospective  mood  is  to  be   shunned,  by  gods 

as  well  as  by  men.  This  is  one  of  Fate's 
ironies,  because  a  woman  in  introspective 
mood  feels  as  if  she  were  very,  very  interest- 
ing. Poor  Paul !  How  in  my  egotistical 
youth  I  must  have  bored  him  with  introspec- 
tions j  I  wonder  if  he  knows  that,  had  he 
lived,  his  wife  might  have  finally  grown  into 
knowledge  and  understanding,  and  have  been 
a  comfort  to  him  instead  of  a  perplexity. 

The  slow  beat  of  the  cricket- oratorio  seems 

Autumn's  to-night  like  the  dying  pulse  of  summer.     I 

h&raldmgs  waikea  into  the  country  to-day  and  I  found  the 

golden-rod  turned   brown  except    here   and 

there  a  spray  that  had  hoarded  its  gold  where 

the  frost  robber  had  not  found  it.     The  asters 

looked  piteously  out  of  what  blue  eyes  there 

were  left  to  them.     But  the  maples,  ah  the 

maples !    My  heart  beat  faster  at  the  sight 

26 


THE  ANOMALOUS  ME.  MORRIS 

of  their  blood-red  branches ;  there  are  some 
colors  that  one  would  be  willing  to  die  for, 
and  glowing  red  is  one  of  them.  The  birds 
were  flocking  for  their  fall  migrations  and 
never  since  spring  has  the  air  been  so  filled 
with  their  music ;  yet  these  farewell  choruses 
have  a  far  different  sound  than  the  welcome 
songs  of  spring ;  there  is  in  them  an  unrest 
felt  but  hard  to  define— it  betokens  the  com- 
ing departure  and  the  dread  of  wearisome 
journeys. 

On  a  hillside  road  which  leads   up  to  a 
crowning  group  of  old  pines,  I  was  overtaken  A  surprising 

by   Mr.   Morris.     He  was  not  welcome,  but  comPani°n  °f 

the  road 
with  my  usual  polite  mendacity  I  proceeded 

to  hide  the  fact  j  he  seemed  quite  inexplicably 
glad  to  have  found  me  and  strode  on  at  my 
side.  After  a  time,  I  realized  with  great  sur- 
prise that  he  was  entirely  responsive  to  all  of 
nature's  appeals.  He  did  not  say  much,  but 
he  made  me  perceive  that  he  felt  and  knew 
all  the  little  happenings  in  our  environment. 
His  eyes  sought  mine  when  a  squirrel  mock- 
ingly cast  a  chestnut  burr  in  our  path,  and 
again  when  the  sweet  refrain  of  a  meadow- 
27 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

lark  reached  our  ears ;  and  when  we  stopped 
for  breath  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  he  gazed 
long  at  the  scene  before  us  and  said  musingly  : 
"  The  valleys  overflow  with  this  purple  haze 
like  goblets  filled  to  the  brim ;  I  wonder  if 
this  autumnal  splendor  intoxicates  you  as  it 
does  me."  There  was  a  new  light  in  his  eyes 
as  he  said  this,  but  trying  to  analyze  it  was 
like  hunting  for  a  star  in  a  cloudy  sky. 

After  I  returned  home  I  was  obliged  to 
A  punctured  acknowledge  to  myself  that  this  unwelcome 
conceit  companiOn  had  been  a  help  rather  than  a 
hindrance  to  my  enjoyment  of  the  walk.  And 
now  I  am  wondering  how  a  being  so  super- 
ficial and  mechanical  can  be  so  at  home  with 
nature.  I  fear  I  do  not  know  much  about  the 
adjustments  of  the  universe,  after  all.  I  get 
conceited  occasionally,  but  my  conceit  is  as 
soon  punctured  as  a  toy  balloon ;  and  I  am 
quite  as  content  when  it  is  all  shriveled  as  it  is 
to-night  as  when  it  is  bouncing  about  tied  by 
the  string  of  my  imagination. 

O !  you  cheerful  Heathen,  I  do  not  believe 
that  in  all  your  life  before,  you  ever  met  such 
an  absurd  girl.     Do  not  look  so  amazed,  for  I 
28 


THE  ANOMALOUS  MR.  MORKIS 

mean  just  what  I  say—"  girl "  ;  as  truly  a  girl 
as  ever  I  was.  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  roll  A  growth 
up  your  mysterious  eyes  at  such  a  phenome- 
non :  A  girl  who  would  not  learn  to  grow 
old  when  the  gray  hairs  came  creeping  into 
her  black  locks ;  a  girl  who  boldly  declares 
the  whole  world  is  rose-color  because  she 
deliberately  chooses  to  wear  pink  spectacles ; 
a  girl  who  pillows  her  head  trustfully  on  the 
bosom  of  humanity  and  maintains  that  the 
softness  is  in  the  cushion  rather  than  in  the 
head ;  a  girl  who  prizes  more  one  genuine, 
healthy,  happy  emotion  than  all  the  wisdom 
of  the  ages;  a  girl  stunted  in  growth  by 
rank  optimism  and  kept  in  eternal  girlhood 
thereby.  I  am  glad  that  you  finally  grin 
sympathetically,  dear  Idol,  for  I  need  sym- 
pathy to-night. 

SEPTEMBER  26TH:— I  am  glad    that  I  dis- 
covered some   time   since,  that   the  human  Tlie  vagaries 

heart  is  the  most  mysterious  of  all  the  organs  °fthe  human 

heart 

vouchsafed  to  man,  and  most  given  to  un- 
warranted vagaries,  which  it  is  manifestly  the 
head's  business  to  record.     I  can  assure  you, 
29 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

my  Confessor,  much  wisdom  is  likely  to  accrue 
from  such  anatomical  studies. 

Tom  Carroll  and    Millie  Van  Tyne  were 

The  outside-y  here  this  evening.  Millie  and  Joe  are  al- 
man  ways  quarreling  $  and  I  have  not  yet  been  able 
to  determine  whether  it  is  the  quarrel  of 
reciprocal  attraction  or  just  natural  disagree- 
ment. Millie  alluded  to  Mr.  Morris  as  "  the 
outside-y  man"  which  rejoiced  me  exceed- 
ingly as  a  specific  description.  But  Joe  de- 
clared it  a  libel ;  and  said  if  she  knew  him  as 
the  boys  did,  she  "  would  not  say  such  a  silly 
thing,"  at  which  Millie  teasingly  asked  if 
"the  boys"  wound  him  up  every  morning 
and  if  he  "  runs  "  all  day ;  or  if  perchance  his 
"works"  were  of  the  eight-day  sort.  Then 
Joe,  Hushing  with  anger,  retorted  that  men 
were  not  built  on  the  plan  of  women's  ton- 
gues. Tom's  eyes  twinkled  with  amusement 
as  he  listened  to  them  but  I  was  troubled  and 
said  under  my  breath, 

The  Utter  joy       "Bad  children  :  I  wish  they  would  n't." 

ofmisunder-        «  G reat    gcott!     ]£arian     WOuld     you     rob 
standings 

friends  or  lovers  of  the  bitter  joy  of  misunder- 

30 


THE  ANOMALOUS  ME.  MOKEIS 

standing/7  he  ejaculated   in  a  voice  so  low 
that  only  I  heard. 

OCTOBER  4TH  :— A  boy's  impractical  dreams 
are  mightily  interesting,  did  you  know  it?   A  boy's 
What  a  pity  you  were  not  a  boy  before  you  visions 
were  a  god,— for  then  you  would  know  many 
things  of  which  the  gods  never  dream. 

I  walked  with  Joe  to-night  in  the  starlight ; 
we  wandered  away  to  Pine  Hill  and  he  opened 
his  heart  to  me  with  as  much  freedom  as  if  I 
had  been  the  sister  of  some  other  boy  instead. 
He  has  arrived  at  the  Napoleon-on-St.  Helena 
age  ;  he  stands  apart,  in  self  exile,  with  folded 
arms  and  knit  brows,  looking  at  the  world 
from  afar.  He  resents  the  bondage  of  respon- 
sibility and  would  live  alone,  stand  alone  and 
experience  alone  on  his  high  pedestal  of  self. 

I  was  sympathetic,  but  I  managed  to  present 
tactfully  the  argument  that  the  use  of  a  man  The  use  of  a 

to  the  world  is  measured  by  his  bondage  to  man    to    the 

world  is  meas- 
it ;— that  standing  alone  is  not  strength  unless  ure^  iy  ^s 

it  be  the  useless  strength  of  the  obelisk  which  bondage  to  it 
suffices  only  to  bear  vain  inscriptions  until 
31 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

wind  and  weather  efface  them  ;— that  ability 
to  stand  alone  is  petty  strength;  while  the 
ability  to  fit  into  one's  own  niche  with  one's 
fellow  building-stones  in  the  great  world- 
structure,  is  true  strength  ;— that  the  ability 
to  bear  the  weight  of  others,  stanchly ;  and 
the  ability  to  rest  trustfully  on  one's  foun- 
dations measure  a  person's  true  importance. 
He  listened  thoughtfully;  and  when  we 
The  eternal  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill  I  took  his  face  in 
verities  mj  hands  and  turned  his  eyes  so  that  they 
looked  up,  into  the  unfathomable  heavens, 
and  I  said  to  him  softly  as  I  caressed  his  cheek  : 
"The  stars  up  there  keep  their  courses  only 
through  bondage  to  other  stars,  and  the 
eternal  verities  of  worlds  without  number 
are  the  verities  of  your  life  and  mine." 
When  he  bade  me  good-night,  he  put  his  arm 
around  my  neck  and  kissed  me  affection- 
ately; and  that  was  his  response  to  my 
sermon. 

OCTOBER  5TH :— Good  Idol,  were  you  ever 

complimented      in     a      truly     malapropos 

fashion?    Was   your  teak  complexion  ever 

32 


THE  ANOMALOUS  ME.  MOEEIS 

called  "  pearly  "  or  your  eyes  called  "  starry/' 

or  your  dumpy  body  spoken  of  as  tl  grace-   TJie  subtle 

ful"!    I  think  compliments  are  really  more  flattery  ofun~ 

deserved  com- 

pleasing  when  they  are  undeserved,  for  they 
are  thus  relegated  to  the  realm  of  the  ideal 
where  any  delightful  fairy  story  may  be  true. 
While  if  a  compliment  is  deserved,  it  does 
not  mean  so  much ;  for,  after  all  is  said,  virtue 
is  its  own,  and  too  often  alas  !  its  only  reward 
in  this  queer  world. 

All  of  this  discussion  was  caused  by  Joe's 
telling  me  to-day  that  Theodore  Morris  said 
to  him  that  I  was  the  most  elegant  and  in- 
teresting woman  he  had  ever  met.  "  Elegant 
and  interesting  "  forsooth  !  And  this  is  what 
I  am  coming  to  !  If  you  will  be  kind  enough 
to  excuse  me  I  think  I  shall  proceed  to  lay  my 
elegant  head  on  my  interesting  pillow  and 
take  a  rest. 

OCTOBER  GTH  :— I  think  as  the  years  go  by 
we  should  rejoice  over  the  facility  we 
gain  in  living ;  we  get  a  working  knowledge 
of  the  tools  at  our  command  which  is  a  great 
help.  Now-a-days  I  feel  so  sure  of  myself  and 
33 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

so  entirely  secure  and  peaceful  just  because  I 
am  "  getting  used." 

In  my  earlier  years  of  Sturm  und  Drang,  I 
Bovine  was  wont  to  envy  the  cow  which  stood,  ehew- 
seremty  jng  ^er  CU(j  an(^  gazing  with  great  soft  con- 
tented eyes  into  space  and  perhaps  futurity  j 
she  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  embodiment  of 
serene  faith  and  satisfaction.  Now  I  envy 
her  no  longer— because  I  am  her.  Pardon 
my  grammar,  O  most  Worshipful !  However, 
a  god  prayed  to  for  so  many  years  in  Japanese 
ought  not  to  be  disturbed  by  colloquial  English 
and  that  fact  adds  much  to  the  solace  derived 
from  coming  to  you  with  many  and  various 
confessions. 

By  the  way,  I  was  about  to  tell  you  that 
Mr.  Morris  called  to-night  just  as  I  was  start- 
ing to  make  Ma  Belle  a  visit,  and  I  invited 
him  to  go  with  me.  He  was  silent  and 
apathetic  during  our  stay,  but  Ma  Belle  and  I 
did  not  mind,  for  we  always  find  plenty  of 
interesting  things  to  talk  about.  I  am  pining 
to  know  what  ma  mdre  thinks  about  the  young 
man ;  she  is  keen  and  never  makes  mistakes 
in  judging  people. 

34 


THE  ANOMALOUS  MR.  MOKKIS 

OCTOBER    TTH  :— Guess    what   she   did    say 

about    him !     I   went   to    see    her    to-day  A  sealed 

purposely  to  find  out  her  impressions.     She  P°rcelain 

box 
said:     "My  dear,  that  man  is  like  a  sealed 

porcelain  box ;  you  cannot  tell  by  the  pretty 
painting  on  the  outside  what  is  going  on  in- 
side. Mark  me,  Marian,  the  one  who  breaks 
through  the  crust  of  this  conventional  Mr. 
Morris  of  yours  is  likely  to  be  surprised." 

Last  evening  when  the  "porcelain  box" 
and  I  returned  from  our  call,  we  met  Tom 
Carroll  coming  out  of  our  house.  He  refused 
my  invitation  to  come  in  and  instead,  took  it 
for  granted  that  Mr.  Morris  was  going  away 
also,  and  the  two  went  down  the  avenue  to- 
gether. To-night  Tom  called  again,  and 
asked  quite  casually : 

"Marian,  what  might  be  the  name  of  the 
gilded  youth  I  found  lingering  on  your  door- 
stone  last  evening  f  " 

I  answered  coldly,  "You  heard  his  name, 
you  saw  him  and  so  you  know  all  I  can  tell 
you."  He  smiled  indulgently  and  continued 
teasingly : 

"  Big  girl,  are  n't  you  ashamed  not  to  play 
35 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

fair !  Why  don  't  you  take  some  one  of  your 
size  and  leave  little  boys  alone  1 " 

"  I  prefer  little  boys  j  they  are  far  more  in- 
Boys  vs.  Men  teresting  than  men."  He  raised  his  eyebrows 
incredulously  and  I  hastened  to  say  "  One  sees 
in  boys  so  much  of  promise." 

"  And  in  men  so  little  of  fulfilment,  I  sup- 
pose you  think."  I  looked  out  of  the  window 
with  obvious  patience  and  he  continued,  "  O, 
you  cheerful  pessimist !  There  is  a  mighty 
small  chance  of  reforming  you  5  the  tail  to 
your  social  kite  has  always  been  a  string  of 
boys. " 

"  Glory  be ! "  I  ejaculated ;  then  I  asked 
with  some  asperity,  "  What  have  you  against 
boys?" 

"I,— Oh,  I  have  n't  any  prejudice  against 
A  beguiling  boys,  nor  against  pollywogs  either,  for  that 
callowness  matter.  What  I  complain  of  is  that  a  woman 
of  your  age  and  wisdom  should  find  such  ap- 
parent satisfaction  in  callowness.  Great  Scott ! 
If  I  were  like  you  in  that  particular  I  'd  be 
consistent  and  devote  myself  to  calves.  Just 
think  how  interesting  a  calf  looks,  gazing  at 
you  with  wide  open,  unspeculative  eyes,  his 
36 


THE  ANOMALOUS  MR.  MORRIS 

legs  spread  far  apart  to  secure  breadth  of  base 
as  he  now  and  then  makes  purposeless  lunges  Boys  vs. 
at  you,  his  tail  shaking  in  infantile  glee.  Pic-  calves 
ture  it,  Marian,  and  confess  that  a  calf  is  the 
quintessence  of  youth  and  inexperience,  and 
then  explain,  if  you  please,  why  you  stop  at 
boys  when  you  might  taste  the  intoxication 
of  calves." 

I  made  no  answer  but  fell  back  on  my  smile, 
which  I  knew  would  try  him  to  the  limit  of  A  smile 
endurance.  He  once  asked  me  if  I  set  my 
smile  with  thumb-screws  ;  and  I  assured  him 
that  I  set  it  despite  thumb-screws  and  several 
other  forms  of  torture.  I  smiled  to-night 
because  I  did  not  know  how  to  answer  him.  I 
have  discovered  that  sometimes  an  accidental 
slip  of  the  foot  is  likely  to  start  a  whole  land- 
slide, and  I  make  a  practice  of  not  precipi- 
tating anything  that  I  cannot  stay  on  top  of. 
Healthful  habit,  that ;  but  it  requires  discre- 
tion and  agility. 


37 


o 


CHAPTER  IV 

TWO   KNIGHTS  TO   THE  RESCUE 

CTOBEE,  STH  :— I  have  been  inanely  good 
One  of  tJie  in-   \-S     of  late  and  I  hope  you  have  noticed  it. 

conveniences   Now  hold  Qn  to     QUr  self.Control  while  I  COn- 
of  being  very 

lad  fess  that  when  I  am  stupid  I  am  usually  very 

good.  This  is  n't  because  goodness  is  stupid, 
but  somehow  in  my  case  it  is  almost  always 
the  direct  result  of  unenterprising  stupidity. 
Well,  I  am  glad  to  have  experienced  this  good 
"  spell."  I  should  like  to  average  about  me- 
dium on  the  day  of  judgment  so  as  to  keep 
with  the  crowd  $  and  one  of  the  inconveniences 
of  being  very  bad  is  that  one  is  obliged  to  be 
very  good  in  order  to  balance  the  sheet. 

Why  should  n't  I  be  good?  The  world  turns 
Life,  like  an  its  soft  side  toward  me  these  days,  and  I 
ill-fitting  loot  sllould  beiievc  it  were  made  of  eider-down  if  it 

38 


TWO  KNIGHTS  TO  THE  KESCUE 

were  not  for  a  sharp  edge  somewhere,  always 
cutting  into  my  heart.  "  What  sharp  edge?  " 
do  you  ask  f  Oh,  little  god,  if  you  ask  ques- 
tions you  are  no  better  than  a  mere  mortal ; 
and  I  will  never  confess  to  a  cross-examiner, 
never.  If  you  were  made  of  flesh  and  blood 
instead  of  teak-wood,  you  would  know  that 
the  happiest  life  is  like  an  ill-fitting  boot— it 
is  sure  to  pinch  somewhere.  I  should  like  to 
take  mine  off,  for  a  time,  and  rest. 

It  is  strange  how  this  power  of  living  comes 
and  goes  like  tides  at  flood  and  ebb.  Some-  The  vital  flood 
times  every  experience  is  vital,  strong,  and  ° 
worth  while  ;  then  follows  a  period  of  dreary 
listlessness.  Happy  thought !  I  wonder  if 
something  in  your  eye  suggested  it !  I  will 
gear  my  spiritual  machinery  like  that  of  a 
tide-mill,  and  then  both  ebb  and  flood  shall 
grind  my  grists  ;  anything,  good  or  bad  shall 
turn  my  wheels.  I  am  coming  to  believe  that 
the  kind  of  force  applied  to  living  is  neither 
God's  concern  nor  man's,  so  long  as  the  results 
are  along  the  upward  trend. 

OCTOBER  15TH:— A  breathlessly  busy    day, 
39 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

and  I  am  in  a  state  of  rebellion  to-night 

To-day's  mad  against  the  mad  hurry  that  possesses  this  day 

hurry  an(j  generation  as,  of  old,  devils  possessed  the 

swine.     We  are  too  busy  to  live,  and  have  to 

get  our  experiences  by  hastily  running  over  a 

card-catalogue  of  emotions.     We  know  our 

joys  and  agonies  by  name,  but  we  have  no 

time  to  reach  up  and  take  from  the  shelf  and 

study  a  genuine  volume  of  life  lore. 

To  change  the  metaphor,  we  have  no  chance 
Telescoped  to  drift  and  rest.  The  current  is  so  swift  that 
we  are  obliged  to  keep  steadily  at  the  oars, 
drifting  in  rapids  not  being  a  safe  pastime. 
In  the  land  whence  you  came,  Idol,  the  days 
are  serenely  lived  hour  by  hour,  and  are  not 
telescoped  one  on  another  as  they  are  here. 
In  that  blessed  land  the  angle  of  incident  is 
no  greater  than  the  angle  for  reflection.  Little 
god,  let  us  go  back  there  and  stay  ! 

All  of  this  tirade  comes  from  an  attempt  of 
father's  to  entertain  his  class,  en  masse,  here 
at  the  house  this  evening  ;  the  preparation  for 
and  the  event  itself  have  taken  all  my  time 
and  strength  for  two  days. 

As  an  act  of  kindly  intention  on  the  part 
40 


TWO  KNIGHTS  TO  THE  RESCUE 

of  a  professor  toward  his  pupils ;  and  as  a 
means  of  grace  to  the  pupils,  I  fully  approve  An  immobile 
of  the  function.  But  as  a  social  effort  it  was  www 
a  weird  affair.  I  cannot  think  of  any  gather- 
ing, so  perfectly  amicable,  that  was  farther 
from  social  intercourse  than  the  reception 
this  evening.  The  young  people  were  fine 
looking,  for  the  most  part,  and  doubtless  in 
a  less  constrained  situation  would  have  been 
most  brilliant  in  conversation.  But  there 
were  such  hordes  of  them  that  they  could  not 
find  themselves ;  they  seemed  to  be  rooted  to 
their  seats  during  all  the  earlier  part  of  the 
evening ;  whether  they  were  helpless  and 
could  not  move,  or  were  happy  and  did  not 
wish  to  was  a  problem  I  could  not  solve. 

Into  this  in-statu-quo  company  Joe  brought 
Mr.  Morris  and  a  little  later  Tom  drifted  in.   Two  modern 
It   seemed  as   if  they  both  discovered   my  kniffht8 
perilous  situation  as  hostess  at  once  and  each 
went  to  work  to  help  me  in  his  own  way. 
Mr.  Morris  soon  had  a  group  around  the  piano 
singing  college  songs  with  the  joyous  abandon 
characteristic   of  such  singing.      Tom  went 
into  the  library  and  began  talking  j  and  in  a 
41 


CONFESSIONS   TO  A  HEATHEN    IDOL 

few  moments  lie  had  uprooted  every  person 
in  the  room  much  to  the  relief  of  the  chairs 
and  myself;  Tom  is  a  Pied  Piper  when  he 
makes  up  his  mind  to  be  entertaining  and 
these  students  gathered  around  him  and  very 
soon  shouts  of  laughter  from  the  group  greeted 
my  grateful  ears.  Tom  is  inimitable  when 
he  tells  funny  stories  j  his  expression  of 
countenance  is  serious,  almost  grave  except 
for  a  latent  twinkle  in  his  eyes  ;  not  until  his 
listeners  are  laughing  and  the  climax  of  the 
story  safely  passed  does  his  smile  show  itself ; 
(I  think  I  told  you  once  that  his  smile  is  an 
exceedingly  interesting  performance  to  the  on- 
looker). 

I  had  barely  strength  left  to  thank  these 

TJie  teacher's  two  who  came  to  my  rescue  so  nobly.     But 
cheerful  self-    ^^  ^  were  g  father  said   with  ft  look 

immolation 

of  perfect  satisfaction  :  "I  think  they  all  had 

a  most  enjoyable  evening,  don't  you  think 
so?"  and  I  was  able  to  say  " Surely  they 
did."  Dear  old  dad !  he  lives  for  his  pupils 
in  a  way  they  can  never  know.  The  hero  on 
the  battle-field  lays  down  his  life  in  one  su- 
preme moment  but  the  true  teacher  lays  down 
42 


TWO  KNIGHTS  TO  THE  RESCUE 

his  life  hour  after  hour,  moment  after  mo- 
ment ;  and  when  the  last  drop  of  his  blood 
has  been  poured  on  this  sacrificial  altar  of  his 
life's  work  he  is  tossed  aside  by  the  powers 
that  be,  because,  forsooth,  "younger  blood" 
is  needed.  But  it  is  I,  not  father,  who  says 
these  rebellious  things. 

OCTOBER  22D :— Tom  came  this  morning 
early  and  took  me  for  a  drive  and  it  was  a  The  miracle 
memorable  experience.  Our  road  took  us  for  °f  the  mists 
miles  along  the  river's  bank,  and  then  led  us 
to  the  very  top  of  Starrin's  mountain.  Nature 
had  turned  impressionist  and  splashed  the 
hills  with  scarlet  and  wine-color,  russet  and 
yellow,  olive  and  emerald.  From  our  moun- 
tain top  the  valleys  below  seemed  filled  with 
morning  mists— fog-seas  rifted  here  and 
there  to  give  us  glimpses  of  a  sea-bottom  of 
green  pastures  and  still  waters ;  the  sudden 
parting  of  these  mist-billows  seemed  to  me 
somewhat  more  of  a  miracle  than  the  divid- 
ing of  the  water  of  the  Ked  Sea  in  days  of 
old. 

I  had  a  deeply  satisfactory  time  with  Mother 
43 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

Nature  this  morning  because  I  was  happy ; 

Nature  likes  it  is  only  when  I  am  unhappy  that  she  dis- 
good  society   Qwns   me?  and  wiu  haye    naught    of   me<     j 

must  give  myself  to  her  without  any  reser- 
vations if  I  would  experience  the  blessing 
of  her  companionship.  Nature  is  no  moralist ; 
she  does  not  care  whether  I  am  good  or  bad ; 
all  she  asks  is  that  I  be  happy  and  sympa- 
thetic. If  I  cannot  be  happy  without  being 
good,  it  is  my  affair  and  not  hers ;  she  likes 
"good  society  "  and  is  n't  inquisitive  about 
the  wherefore. 

Well,  I  was  "  good  society  "  to-day  and  I 
Masculine  knew  the  wherefore  if  Nature  did  n't.     Tom 

and  feminine  did  not  say  much    Ms  dashing  span  of  colts 

consciousness 

kept  him  pretty  busy,  but  I  knew  his  keen 

glance  took  in  all  that  was  worth  seeing.  Yet 
his  attitude  toward  the  beautiful  world  was 
widely  different  from  that  of  Mr.  Morris. 
The  latter  enjoys  the  color  and  beauty  of 
autumn  as  he  would  a  lovely  woman— in  a 
more  or  less  sensuous  and  personal  way. 
Tom  always  comprehends  something  beyond 
the  merely  beautiful  scene ;  a  barren  desert 
would  mean  great  things  to  him.  And  to-day 
44 


TWO  KNIGHTS  TO  THE  RESCUE 

he  was  comprehending  all  things— nature, 
me,  the  horses— and  yet  he  was  so  entirely 
unconscious  of  the  comprehending  !  Men,  I 
have  noticed,  are  usually  unconscious  of 
everything  of  importance  ;  and  women  on  the 
other  hand,  are  usually  conscious  of  every- 
thing of  no  importance.  And  by  these  same 
tokens,  to-day,  Tom  Carroll  was  a  man,  and 
Marian  Lee  a  woman. 


45 


CHAPTER  V 

MA  BELLE  AND  TOM    DISCUSS  THE  PROBLEM- 
NOVEL 


O 


24TH  :— This  afternoon  Ma  Belle 
came  to  see  me  and  found  me  in  the  very 
good  company  of  Mr.  Omar  Khayyam  (al- 
though probably  you  and  your  brother  gods 
would  deem  him  lacking  in  true  reverence). 
Ma  Belle  asked  me  at  once  : 

An  Omar  dis-       "  Why  are  you  reading  that  book  to-day  f ' 

cussion       u  Q]^  because  I  am  trying  to  find  out  what 

I  am  and  who  God  is "  I  answered  craftily, 

knowing    that     retribution     would     follow 

swiftly. 

"I    can     tell     you    what    you    are     this 
We  must  make  minute— you  are  a  goose.    And  as  to  who 

the  best  of  the  God  may  be -that  is  none  of  your  business. 
scenery 

nor  mine.     It   is  our  business  to  guide  our 

little  shallops  adown  the  stream  of  the  years 

as  best  we  can  and  not  be   fidgeting  over 

46 


DISCUSSING  THE  PROBLEM-NOVEL 

where  we  are  going  to  land  or  where  the 

river  flows  to.     The  scenery  may  be  poor—   A    mental 

just  low  meadows  and  marshes  ;  but  it  is  our  race-tracJcnot 

a  good  invest- 

business  to  make  the  best  of  it  and  the  most  ment 
beautiful  of  it  too ;  marshes  are  n't  so  bad 
at  noon  when  the  dragon-flies  are  glinting 
above  the  reeds,  or  at  sunset  when  sluggish 
waters  best  reflect  the  sky.  As  to  the  Crea- 
tor, it  is  impertinent  and  futile  curiosity  on 
your  part  to  be  questioning  about  the  way  He 
runs  the  universe.  If  you  go  on  like  this 
your  thoughts  will  make  a  race-track  of  your 
mind  and  gallop  around  and  around  on  it, 
never  arriving  anywhere  and  wearing  you 
out  meanwhile.  Turn  your  questionings  out 
to  pasture,  my  dear,  and  you  will  feel  much 
more  comfortable  and  live  a  healthier  life." 

OCTOBER  30TH  :— Another  call  from  Mr.  Mor- 
ris  this   evening.    I   do    not    know    why    I  Extreme  unc- 
should  discuss  his  calls  with  you,  Small  Idol,   *ion 
when  almost  every  evening  the  drawing-room 
is  frequented  by  people  far  more  interesting 
than  he  could  ever  be.     There  were  several 
others  here  to-night ;  someone  of  them  had 
47 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

been  reading  Lowell 's  "Life  and  Letters,"  and 
the  conversation  turned  upon  his  poetry.  Mr. 
Morris  took  a  volume  of  Lowell  from  the 
shelf  in  a  manner  at  once  certain  and  pur- 
poseful, gave  it  to  me  and  said  "  Bead  to  us." 
I  obeyed  meekly  and  read  portions  of  Under 
the  Willows  and  a  few  of  the  shorter  poems ; 
he  then  took  the  book  from  my  hand,  turned 
the  leaves  rapidly  and  returned  it  to  me  and 
commanded  "  Bead  this."  It  was  Extreme 
Unction,  a  poem  which  I  was  wont  to  read 
often  in  my  unserene  youth.  As  I  read,  some- 
thing of  the  old  fire  was  rekindled  in  me ; 
when  I  finished,  the  room  was  quiet  for  an 
embarrassing  moment,  and  then  Joe  relieved 
the  situation  by  ejaculating  "  Gee  whiz "  j 
and  we  all  smiled  and  were  grateful  for  the 
chance  this  gave  us  to  get  back  to  the  com- 
fortable level  of  the  commonplace. 

Later,  Mr.  Morris  quite  deliberately  seated 
A  smoulder-  himself  at  my  side  on  the  sofa  and  I  suddenly 
ing  fire  felt  that  j  had  better  nave  been  seated  else- 
where.    There  was  a  glow  smouldering  some- 
where in  his  brown  glass  eyes  and  he  murmured 
so  that  no  one  else  could  hear,  "  I  knew  you 
48 


DISCUSSING  THE  PROBLEM-NOVEL 

would  read  that  poem  just  as  you  did  "  ;  and 
someway,  I  did  not  feel  like  investigating 
the  glow  to  find  out  whether  it  was  on  or 
beneath  the  surface  of  his  eyes ;  and  I  did 
not  feel  like  asking  him  what  he  meant,  or, 
what  perplexed  me  more,  the  possible  inter- 
est a  poem  of  that  character  possessed  for  a 
painted  porcelain  box. 

'Tis  an  uncertain  world— a  regular  gam- 
bling joint  !  We  cannot  even  think  without  This  little 
staking  something  on  the  unknown.  All  the  world~ffame 
wisdom  concerning  humanity  which  we  may 
attain  will  never  enable  us  to  work  out  a 
system  whereby  we  may  safely  bet  on  what 
is  hidden  in  the  soul  of  the  next  person  we 
happen  to  meet.  Since  you  are  a  god  I  wish 
you  would  tell  me  if  you  have  found  there  is 
any  certain  per-cent  in  favor  of  the  dealer  in 
this  world  game  ?  I  doubt  it ! 

NOVEMBER  TTH  :  —  Such  a  delightful  eve- 
ning !  I  wish  that  I  had  taken  you  in  Some  good 
my  pocket  to-night  so  that  you  might  have 
caught  for  yourself  the  touch  and  go  of  con- 
versation, so  impossible  to  repeat.  I  went 
49 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

to  Ma  Belle's  to  dine  and  Tom  was  there  ;  he 
was  not  invited  but  he  has  always  had  the 
habit  of  dropping  in  for  dinner  whenever  he 
chose.  The  two  are  truly  devoted  to  each 
other  ;  Tom  has  given  several  reasons  for  his 
celibate  condition,  such  as  "  I  did  not  marry 
when  I  was  a  young  fool,  and  now  I  am  wait- 
ing until  I  shall  be  an  old  fool,"  or,  "Too 
many  attractive  women  j  my  affections  are  so 
scattered  that  if  I  should  collect  and  bestow 
them  upon  only  one  woman,  there  would  be 
twelve  basketfuls  left  over  and  above  what 
she  could  possibly  use."  But  the  reason  he 
most  often  gives  is  that  he  was  born  too  late 
to  win  Madam  Lee,  and  in  my  heart  I  have 
always  felt  that  they  were  mated  in  spirit. 
They  fit  each  other  socially,  and  each  leads 
the  other  on  to  saying  clever  things.  To- 
night, something  was  said  about  the  problems 
of  existence,  and  Tom  said  : 

"  A  true  problem  is  one  that  has  two  solu- 
A peculiarity  tions  at  least;   and   its   peculiarity  is   that 

of  some  whichever  way  you  solve  it  you  wish  you  had 
problems 

tried  the  other." 

"  That  is  because  we  never  seem  to  know 
50 


DISCUSSING  THE  PROBLEM-NOVEL 

beforehand  which  is  birth-right  and  which  is 
pottage,  and  a  mess  is  all  we  get  out  of  it ;  Birthright  or 
the  true  philosopher  takes  the  mess,  what-  #otta9e 
ever  it  may  be,  and  believes  it  is  the  best 
thing  in  the  world,"  said  Ma  Belle. 

"  But  how  dare  we  be  so  mendacious  with 
our  own  consciences?"  I  demanded. 

"A  conscience— what  is  that?"  asked  Tom 
with  a  good  simulation  of  mystification. 

"A  fakir  with  whom  we  eternally  haggle, 
who  says  to  us,  do  this  or  that  thing  and  I  Some  defini- 

will  give  you  for  it  an  ounce  of  peace  or  a  twns  °f 

conscience 
pennyweight  of  comfort,"  suavely  explained 

Belle  mere. 

"  It  ought  to  be  a  strong  creative  force ; 
but  it  is  mostly  a  contemptible,  irritating, 
little  gad-fly,  eternally  dodging  about  to  get 
its  sting  into  the  most  sensitive  spot,"  con- 
tinued Tom  soberly. 

"  I  know  what  my  conscience  is,"  I  ad- 
mitted ruefully ;  "  it  is  a  headlight  misplaced 
and  carried  at  the  rear  of  my  earthly  train, 
by  means  of  which  I  am  always  discovering 
dangers  and  dreadful  pitfalls  in  the  road  just 
passed  in  apparent  safety ;  and  that  is  what 
51 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

makes  my  repentance  most  perfunctory." 
Tom  laughed  and  said : 

"  Good  girl !  I  envy  you.  My  conscience 
works  thus :  it  permits  me  no  comfort  from 
conscious  rectitude,  and  allows  no  reckless 
bliss  when  I  finally  get  the  bits  in  my  teeth 
and  speed  along  the  path  of  forbidden  de- 
lights ;  the  result  is  a  wide  and  diversified 
discomfort." 

"Why  don't  you  write  an  ethical  novel  for 
the  instruction  of  both  the  good  and  the  bad?" 
I  hazarded. 

"  Ethical  novels  have  such  a  pernicious  in- 
fluence" objected  Ma  Belle.  "  Heading  one  is 
like  wading  through  the  mire  for  the  sake  of 
cleaning  one's  soiled  skirts  at  the  end." 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Tom,  reassuringly,  "when 

A  new  kind  of  I  write  one  it  will  be  most  confoundingly 

ethical  novel  ethicaL     j  am   wimng  to   admit  that  such 

books  usually  take  the  sinner  by  the  hand 
and  lead  him  on  to  iniquities  which  he  had 
not  before  even  dreamed  of ;  they  find  the 
narrow  path  by  exploiting  the  broad  way  first. 
But  my  novel  is  going  to  get  in  its  work  be- 
hind the  wayfarer  j  it  will  be  no  stumbling- 
52 


DISCUSSING  THE  PKOBLEM-NOVEL 

block  but  a  boulder  swiftly  descending  the 
downward  path  behind  him,  and  he  will  have 
to  accelerate  his  speed  to  save  himself  on 
higher  ground.  My  novel  shall  clatter  along 
at  the  erring  man's  heels  at  such  a  rate  that 
he  will  soon  find  himself  sprinting  toward  the 
pearly  gates  in  a  way  that  will  surprise 
even  St.  Peter,  who  must  have  witnessed  many 
a  close  finish." 

"  Ethical  novels  are  never  read  by  the  bad," 
explained  Ma  Belle,  "  they  are  read  only  by  Tortlinsonls 
the  good  who  long  to  be  bad,  but  dare  not  j  virtue 
they  are  read  by  the  Tomlinsons,  of  whom  we 
have  too  many  in  our  very  respectable  midst." 

"  I  see  "  said  Tom  gravely,  "  you  prefer  a 
man  to  commit  murder  rather  than  read 
about  it." 

"  What  I  object  to,"  she  answered,  "  is  leav- 
ing the  drama  of  every -day  life  and  going  off 
and  prancing  up  and  down  a  paper  stage.1' 

"  How  could  we,  any  of  us,  help  prancing 
up  and  down  with  Sentimental  Tommy  ?"  I  Sentimental 
asked. 

"Oh,  of  course  we  could  not,"  sighed  Ma 
Belle,  "because  Sentimental  Tommy  is  pranc- 
53 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

ing  around  inside  every  one  of  us  5  I  find  it 
hard  to  forgive  Barrie  for  stringing  the  typi- 
cal human  heart  up  on  a  gate  post  and  leav- 
ing it  there  bleeding  and  struggling.  I  dis- 
trust an  author  who  has  so  little  delicacy  in 
the  matter  of  turning  the  human  soul  inside 
out." 

"  It  was  ruthless,"  agreed  Tom,  "  but  most 
authors  now-a-days  believe  that  souls  rather 
than  coats  should  be  worn  wrong  side  out, 
showing  seams  and  motley  linings  j  and  the 
more  they  know  the  less  can  they  be  trusted 
to  be  decent  with  their  knowledge." 

"  Some  people  are  so  vain,"  interrupted  Ma 
The  wise  and  Belle,  "that  they  look  upon  everything  they 

kind  ignore  discover  about  folks  as  something  to  print— 
and  are  silent 

something  to  put  into  words  in  public  to  make 

for  themselves  fame  which  ought  to  be  shame. 
While  a  person  who  is  both  wise  and  kind 
ignores  most  of  the  things  he  finds  out  about 
people— esprit  du  corps  demands  silence.  Such 
knowledge  ought  to  be  promptly  stored  in 
our  mental  garrets,  and  never  brought  out 
even  to  be  dusted,  much  less  to  be  shown  to 
the  neighbors.  The  more  one  really  knows, 
54 


DISCUSSING  THE  PROBLEM -NOVEL 

the  more  sedulously,  because  of  noblesse  oblige, 
should  one  refrain  from  mentioning  it." 

And  thus  the  evening  passed  in  conversation 
which  we  three  enjoyed.     Somebody  once  said  Three  of  a 
that  we  three  always  think  the  same,  thoughts  ***** 
and  say  the  same  things ;  but  neither  Tom 
nor  I  can  keep  abreast  of  Ma  Belle,   and  we 
are  always  infinitely  content  to  trail  along  be- 
hind her. 

Tom  and  I  came  home  by  the  light  of  the 
stars,  which  is  the  most  beautiful  and  mys-  Stars  and 
terious  light  that  shines  upon  this  world ;  I  meteors 
adore  the  unreality  of  it.  And,  too,  there  is 
something  about  being  consciously  in  the 
presence  of  so  many  worlds,  and  systems  of 
worlds,  that  makes  the  ego  dwindle  to  an  in- 
finitesimal point,  and  naught  seems  of  im- 
portance. We  have  no  trouble  in  bearing 
our  burdens  when  we  see  self  in  true  perspect- 
ive, as  the  merest  dot  on  a  little  world  which 
is  something  less  than  a  dot  in  the  stellar  uni- 
verse. A  bright  meteor  shot  from  zenith  to 
horizon,  and  Tom  remarked  : 

"  Serves  you    right,   little  star  !     That  ?s 
what  you  get  for  coming  too  close  to  another 
55 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

star  ;  you  should  have  shunned  such  danger- 
ous company  and  then  you  might  have  con- 
tinued in  your  cheerful  whirl  in  outer  space  !" 
"  Outer  darkness/7  I  murmured,  "  I  wonder 
if  it  found  its  own  streak  of  light  edifying  or 
amusing." 

"  Probably  found  it  warm,"  said  Tom,  as  he 

Some  silences  drew  my  arm  closer  within  his  j  we  walked 

are  golden  on  ^  silence  until  we  reacned  the  house  and 

bade  each  other  a  gentle  "  good  night."    Some 
silences  are  golden,  little  god ! 


56 


N 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  VAGAEIES  OF  CUPID 

OVEMBEB  20TH  :— The  last  time  I  came 
to  confession  the  world  was  all  peaches  Caviare  and 
and  cream ;  but  to-night  it  is  all  caviare  and  tobasco  sauce 
tobasco  sauce.  Oh,  you  poor,  innocent,  heathen 
Idol,  I  never  expected  to  pour  into  your  help- 
less ears  confessions  of  love  affairs— I  am  not 
quite  so  juvenile  as  that,  I  hope.  I  meant 
simply  to  tell  you  in  abstract  statements  or 
in  concrete  words  what  I,  and  a  few  other 
people  thought  about  the  creaking  mechanism 
of  the  social  world.  But  queer  things  have 
happened  to  me,  so  queer  that  I  must  tell 
them  to  someone,  and  none  but  you  are  suffi- 
ciently discreet  to  be  trusted  with  such  a  tale. 
Mr.  Morris  invited  me  to  go  to  the  opera 
with  him  this  evening  ;  as  Joe  and  Millie  Van  After  the 
Tyne  were  to  be  of  the  party,  I  accepted  the 
invitation,  as  I  always  do  when  Joe's  friends 
57 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

seek  to  entertain  me.  It  was  late  when  we 
returned,  for  the  opera  was  poor  and  inter- 
minable ;  so  out  of  the  kindness  of  my  heart 
I  asked  Mr.  Morris  to  come  in  and  as  soon  as 
Joe  should  join  us  we  would  search  the  larder 
for  some  refreshments  for  the  inner  man. 

Owing  to  the  frugality  or  the  laziness  of  the 

A  dark  pro-  new  maid,  whose  personal  equation  I  have  not 

ending  yet  mastered?  tlie  light  in  the  hall  had  been 

turned  off.  I  went  for  a  match  and  came 
back  groping  for  the  gas  jet  when  my  hand 
accidentally  touched  the  young  man's  sleeve. 
In  a  breathless  second,  before  I  could  realize 
what  was  happening,  I  was  held  fast  in  a  pair 
of  athletic  arms  and  kisses  were  being  depos- 
ited impartially  upon  my  hair,  nose,  cheek 
and  lips.  I  was  so  stupefied  that  it  seemed 
an  age  before  I  recovered  sufficiently  to  ex- 
tricate myself.  Surprised  ?  Why,  if  the  stiff, 
straight,  carved,  oaken  chair  in  the  hall  had 
suddenly  embraced  me,  I  should  not  have 
been  more  surprised.  I  was  so  rigid  with 
amazement  that  I  failed  to  appreciate  how 
unseemly  it  was.  I  mechanically  struck  a 
match  and  lighted  the  gas,  went  into  the 
58 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  CUPID 

drawing-room  and  turned  on  the  light  thert 
before  I  said  or  even  thought  anything. 
Then  I  turned  and  beheld  my  assailant  quite 
at  his  ease,  leaning  his  elbow  on  the  mantel  and 
looking  intently  at  the  embers  in  the  grate 
I  finally  found  my  voice  and  said  : 

"Mr.  Morris,  will  you  kindly  explain  to  me 
what  all  this  means  ?  " 

"It  simply  means  that  I  love  you,"  he 
replied  in  a  monotone,  as  cold  as  if  he  were  A  well  insu- 

reading  the  words  carved  in  the  marble  of  the  latcd   declar~ 

ation  of  love 
mantel.     I  gasped  with  astonishment.     It  was 

as  difficult  to  connect  those  cold  words  with 
love  as  it  was  to  connect  that  frigid  man  with 
the  anything  but  frigid  kisses  which  made 
my  face  still  tingle. 

"Love  me,"  I  cried  "why,  you  might  as   Cupid,  a  poor 
well  love  your  grandmother  !"  calculator 

"  I  do  love  her,  but  not  as  I  love  you." 
This  without  a  trace  of  a  smile.  I  made  a 
vigorous  effort  for  self-possession  and  at  last 
said  with  a  laugh  which  was  half  a  sob  of 
fright : 

"  Well,  love  me  if  you  must,   but  never, 
never  kiss  me  again  as  long  as   you  live ! " 
59 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

Then  he  turned  toward  me  a  face  still  calm 
except  for  a  flame  in  either  cheek,  and  a  look 
in  his  eyes  that  will  never  let  me  call  them 
again  "  doll's  eyes,"  and  said  in  a  low  tense 
voice : 

"  Oh,  I  know  well  enough  that  you  will  say 
A  quite  differ-  it  is  a  wild  and  foolish  infatuation  on  my 

ent  sort  of  part     Maybe  it  is,  but  it  is  what  I  have  been 
love  affair 

waiting  for  all  these  years.     I  am  no  boy;  I 

am  twenty-eight  years  old  with  a  business 
experience  behind  me  after  I  left  college 
which  led  me  to  come  here  for  farther  tech- 
nical training  j  you  have  made  the  mistake  of 
persistently  classing  me  with  Joe  and  the 
other  undergraduates.  Moreover,  I  have  had 
love-affairs  before,  but  they  were  not 
like  this.  You  fascinated  me  from  the  first 
night  we  met  at  that  dance  ;  you  say  different 
things,  you  feel  different  things,  and  you  live 
a  more  interesting  and  wider  life  than  any 
other  woman  I  have  ever  known ;  and  I  love 
you,  my  lady,  with  all  my  heart.  I  am  by  no 
means  a  poor  man,  and  I  have  no  hindering 
family  ties.  I  may  marry  when  and  whom  I 
choose,  and  by  the  eternal  heavens,  Marian 
60 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  CUPID 

Lee,  I  choose  to  marry  you  as  soon  as  I  can." 
This  last  was  said  with  so  much  force  that  it 
seemed  a  command  j  and  I  was  silent,  wrestling 
with  several  surprising  feminine  emotions. 
He  continued : 

"  I  know  too  well  that  I  am  not  your  equal  j 
you  have  made  good  use  of  the  dozen  years  A    dangerous 

which  lie  between  us,  and  I  shall  never  catch  understan(l- 

»  ing 

up.     But  I  know  I  can  make  you  happy  j  I 

have  always  felt  it— for  I  understand  you  to 
the  last  and  least  of  your  thoughts  and 
emotions.  You  would  be  surprised  if  you 
knew  how  perfectly— how  entirely  I  under- 
stand you ;  I  have  never  dared  to  tell  you 
lest  you  think  me  unpardonably  impertinent. 
Though  you  may  not  love  me  now,  Mrs.  Lee, 
because  loving  me  has  been  farthest  from  your 
thoughts  or  present  considerations,  yet  you 
shall  learn  to  love  me  !  Before  God  I  swear 
it,  you  shall  learn  to  love  me ! "  He  strode 
over  to  where  I  was  sitting  and,  placing  his 
hand  on  my  forehead,  he  turned  my  face  so 
that  my  eyes  met  his ;  what  I  saw  rendered 
me  silent,  but  there  flashed  through  my  mind, 
"Mark  me,  Marian,  the  one  who  breaks 
61 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

through  the  crust  of  this  conventional  Mr. 
Morris  of  yours  is  likely  to  be  surprised.'' 
After  looking  at  me  for  a  seemingly  intermin- 
able time,  he  went  back  and  again  leaned  upon 
the  mantel.  I  finally  "  came  to "  and 
managed  to  falter  out : 

"  But  I  am  pretty  nearly  old  enough  to  be 
your  mother." 

"  Fortunately  you  are  not "  ;  was  all  he 
replied. 

"  But  it  is  simply  ridiculous  in  you  to  wish  to 
marry  a  woman  so  much  older  than  yourself." 

"  It  is  not  ridiculous  for  a  man  to  marry 
Love  vs.  tomb-  the  woman  he  loves  best;  you  will  grant 
.  stones  that  much,  will  you  not?  Cupid  has  never 
been  noted  for  taking  an  interest  in  the  re- 
spective ages  of  his  victims  ;  his  arrow  is  not 
a  tombstone  bearing  inscriptions  cetat  40,  cetat 
28."  Having  nothing  to  say  to  this  statement, 
a  silence  fell  between  us  which  was  broken  by 
the  sound  of  Joe's  footsteps  on  the  walk  ;  then 
he  said : 

"I  shall  not  press  you  for  an  answer.  I 
shall  not  bore  you  with  protestations ;  but  I 
62 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  CUPID 

shall  win  you,  my  lady,  in  the  very  teeth  of 
fate,  I  shall  win  you." 

Joe  entered  and  exclaimed  reproachfully, 
"But  Marnie,  have  n't  you  anything  for  us  to 
eat  and  drink?  Theo  looks  awfully  hungry, 
and  I  am  sure  that  is  what  he  is  waiting  for." 

"  Yes,  Joe,  obviously  that  is  what  I  have 
been  waiting  for,"  declared  my  companion  The  cover  off 

with  utter  sang  froid.     I  do  not  know  what  the  P0™1*™ 

box 
happened  after  this.     The  porcelain  box  kept 

his  cover  on,  and  there  was  no  self-conscious- 
ness or  embarrassment  in  his  manner  5  he  went 
away  without  shaking  hands,  but  with  a  cool 
"  Thank  you,  good  night." 

Now  what  in  the  world  am  I  to  do,  little 
Wiseacre  f    Please  stop  smiling  and  give  me  a   TOO  near  the 
little  sensible  advice ;  this  comes  too  near  the  rea>l  ihing 
real  thing  to  please  me.     In  the  first  place,  I 
have  not  the  slightest  idea  of  marrying  His 
Lordship,  I  could  not  even  imagine  such  a 
contingency ;  but  don't  you  dare  to  tell  it  to 
anyone,  I  may  not  be  able  to  avoid  it  if  he 
keeps  on  at  this  rate.     There  is  something  of  Woman,  stiU 
the  savage  left  in  every  woman,  however  civi-  a  dava96 
63 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

lized  she  may  appear  to  the  public ;  and  she 
thoroughly  enjoys  the  sensation  of  being 
clubbed  into  obedience  by  the  male  who  sets 
himself  up  as  her  lord  and  master. 

Oh,  I  have  had  boys  in  love  with  me  before 

Emotions  on    now !    It  15  a  sign  of  a  good,  generous,  normal 
dnu  parade    boy  to  fall  in  loye  with  ft  woman  old  enougll 

so  that  he  knows  it  is  out  of  the  question  to 

marry  her.     I  never  worry  when  a  boy  falls 

in  love  with  me,  for  it  is  sure  to  benefit  him 

in  the  end ;  it  is  a  sort  of  a  dress  parade  for 

his  emotions.     He  tries  to  place  his  affections 

on  me  although  he  knows  they  do  not  fit  well, 

pinching  here  and  hanging  loosely  there  ;  but 

lie  makes  me  wear   them,  willy  nilly,  until 

some  fine  day  he  suddenly  discovers  some  girl 

whom  he  knows  they  were  made  for.     Then 

he  takes  them  off  me  at  once,  without  any 

compunctions  about  my  catching  cold,  and 

forthwith  puts  them  on  her,  and  I  am  the 

first  one  he  calls  on  to  admire  the  perfect  fit. 

It  never  seemed  worth   while   to    worry 

A  healthy  about  any  of  these  boys  j  they  were  only  exer- 

heart-exercise  ^fog  their   hearts  as  a  baby  exercises  and 

stretches  its  muscles.     The  only  concern  I  had 

64 


THE  VAGARIES  OF  CUPID 

in  the  matter  was  lest  I  fail  in  one  jot  or  tittle 

in  being  the  ideal  woman  j  for,  although  the   The  inconve- 

boy  may  have  longed  for  my  love,  yet  had  I  nience  °f  be' 

ing  a  goddess 

given  it  I  would  have  tumbled  off  my  pedes- 
tal and  crushed  the  youth  in  the  process.   All 
that  he  asked  was  to  worship  his  goddess  un 
disturbed  by  any  of  the  facts  of  the  case  or  by 
any  display  of  human  emotions  on  her  part. 
But  this  affair  is  very  different ;  it  is  a  man 
I  have  to  deal  with ;  moreover  he  is  a  man   Commanding 
with  a  dangerous  way  of  subduing  women-  vs-Pleadinff 
folk— he  does  not  ask  or  plead,  lie  commands. 


65 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  STORY  OF  A  MARRIED  LIFE 

NOVEMBER  20TH  (Continued)  :— One  mar- 
riage is  all  of  this  kind  of  experience 
that  I  have  wished  for  in  one  life,  little  god ; 
I  wonder  what  you  would  think  about  that 
marriage  if  I  should  tell  you  all  that  I  know 
about  it  and  all  that  it  taught  me !  I  wonder 
how  it  would  seem  to  put  into  words  the 
memories  and  the  lessons  relating  to  it  which 
have  become  shadowy  dwellers  in  the  realm 
of  my  inner  consciousness. 

In  a  way  I  was  a   lonely   child,  for  my 
A  restricted  mother  died  in  my  childhood ;  and  this  ac- 
cMdhood  counts  for  mtlch  that  you  find  in  my  nightly 
whisperings  to  you.     I  fell   to   the  lot  of  a 
maiden  aunt  whose  path  was  ever  the  narrow 
one  of  rectitude  and  propriety.     My  child- 
hood was  restricted,  but  it  was  happy  enouglu 
06 


THE  STORY  OF  A  MARRIED  LIFE 

I  was  taught  to  knit  and  sew  and  embroider. 

I  was  also  taught  to  play  the  piano  after  a  Four  years  in 

fashion,  though  this  was  considered  a  radical 

leg 
measure  by  my  Quaker  relatives.     When  I 

was  thirteen  I  was  sent  to  a  young  ladies'  semi- 
nary ;  while  there  I  became  fired  with  the 
ambition  to  go  to  college,  where  in  due  time 
I  spent  four  happy  years.  Do  you  know  what 
a  woman's  college  is,  Heathen  Idol  ?  It  is  a 
place  where  things  are  done  according  to 
ideals.  Any  place  governed  by  women  of  high 
culture  and  aspirations  is  always  dominated 
by  feminine  ideals,  which,  by  the  way,  reach 
about  two  octaves  higher  on  life's  keys  than 
the  ideals  of  the  world  at  large.  It  was  no 
sinecure,  the  place  of  a  student  in  a  woman's 
college ;  I  felt  in  honor  bound  to  work  hard 
and  achieve  much,  and,  above  all,  to  live  on  the 
high  peaks  in  the  rarefied  air  of  exalted  ideas. 
Yet  the  years  were  truly  happy,  largely  be- 
cause of  the  congenial  companionship  I  found 
there  as  well  as  the  interesting  work  j  they 
were  years  of  faith  in  the  world  and  of  hal- 
lowed belief  in  man's  knightly  honor,  noble 
deeds  and  chaste  love— years  when  the  mil- 
67 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

Geese  and  lennium  seemed  at  hand— years  when  all  the 
swans  geese  on  the  world-pond  were  graceful  swans. 
Meantime  father  had  married  again,  and 
my  step-mother  was  not  of  the  traditional 
kind.     She   was  the  gentlest,  kindest  most 
inefficient  little  lady  who  ever  undertook  to 
guide  a  step-child  or  bring  up  children  of  her 
own  $  from  the  first  she  leaned  on  me  help- 
lessly when  I  was  at  home. 

I  was  barely  nineteen  when   I  graduated 

Plans  and  from  college  and  returned  home  filled  with 

ambitions  zealous   ambitions    to  keep   on  with   certain 

favorite  studies,  and  at  the  same  time  help 

mamma  keep  house  and  care  for  baby  Joe. 

Thanks  to  Aunt  Emily's  early  training,  I  was 

capable  and  methodical  in  household  affairs  j 

and  I  was  really  accomplishing  what  I  had 

planned,  to  mamma's  great  delight,  when  I 

met  Paul. 

I  had  never  associated  much  with  men  or 
A  girVs  girl  boys  ;  Aunt  Emily  had  never  allowed  me  to 
go  to  a  co-educational  school  in  my  youth, 
because  she  had  forsaken  the  ways  of  her  an- 
cestors and  had  become  a  high-church  woman. 
During  my  vacations  with  her  or  at  home  I 
68 


THE  STOEY  OF  A  MARRIED  LIFE 

had  little  opportunity  to  meet  and  become 
acquainted  with  members  of  the  opposite  sex.   The  meeting 
Now  that  I  was  graduated,  a  great  party  was  mth  Paul 
made  for  me,  and  at  this,  my  first  plunge  into 
the  social  world,  I  met  Paul.     He  was  hand- 
some enough  to  be  any  girl's  ideal  5  he  was 
a    thoroughly  healthy,    athletic,  wholesome 
young  man,  with  little  careless  ways  in  deal- 
ing with  women  which  always  piqued  as  well 
as  interested  them.  From  the  first  he  was  to  me 
a  god  straight  from  Olympus.    Through  lack 
of  opportunity,  I  had  never  had  sentimental 
relations  with  any  man;  and  I  had    always 
been  too  sensible  to  indulge  in   them  with 
women.    Hence,  it  is  little  wonder  that  when 
the  tide  once  started,  it  came  in  a  flood  and 
swept  all  before  it.     With  Paul  it  was  much 
the  same ;  we  were  both  wildly  in  love,  and  The  high  tide 
as  there  was  no  good  reason  for  waiting,  we  °f  ^°ve 
were  married  on  my  twentieth  birthday. 

Does  Your  Teak-wood  Highness  perchance 
know  what  marriage  is  f  In  your  home  temple  Marriage  a 

did  those  weighed  down  by  marital  troubles  comPulsory 

education 
ever  place   offerings  before  you  ?     I  have 

vague  ideas  of  what  marriage  is  like  under 
69 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

the  shadow  of  Fujiyama ;  but  I  have  a  very 
definite  notion  of  what  it  is  like  in  the  land  of 
the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave.  Here  it 
is  a  compulsory  education,  and  it  is  about  the 
only  institution  we  have  which  can  be  de- 
pended upon  to  inculcate  wisdom  and  ripen 
character. 

But  I  had  no  such  idea  of  marriage  when  I 
Matrimony's  entered  upon  that  honorable  estate.  To  me, 
rule  of  three  marrjage  meant  bliss  unalloyed— the  multi- 
plying of  the  happiness  of  life  into  ecstacy, 
and  the  dividing  of  the  trials  of  life  into 
quite  infinitesimal  fractions.  I  knew  that 
Paul  did  not  have  any  faults,  and  I  humbly 
hoped  to  eliminate  my  own  through  associa- 
tion with  him.  In  fact,  I  in  no  wise  differed 
in  my  views  about  marriage  from  any  and 
every  other  person  who  marries  for  love. 
Luckily,  the  awakening  usually  comes  gradu- 
ally ;  but  to  a  girl  who  has  known  only 
women  it  brings  a  terror  which  can  only  be 
realized  through  experience. 

I  think  I  gained  the   first  inkling  of  the 

Browning  a  truth  through  the  discovery  that  Paul  always 
sedative   went    ^    sleep  ^en   j    read    to    him    form 

70 


THE  STOKY  OF  A  MARKIED  LIFE 

Browning.     Paul  was  a  college   man,  and  I 

took  it  for  granted  that  his  literary  tastes  The  gameness 

were  of  the  highest  character.    Our  courtship  of  Fra  Lj 

Lippi 

had  been  so  short  and  breathless  that  we  had 
evidently  never  found  time  to  talk  of  any- 
thing so  tangible  as  literature.  I  naturally 
expected  that  our  evenings  together  would 
be  like  those  I  had  spent  with  Miss  Murray, 
Marcia  Burton  and  my  other  college  friends 
when  we  gathered  for  mental  refreshment  in 
some  cosy  room  of  our  dormitory.  So  ob- 
sessed was  I  with  this  idea  that  it  took  me  a 
long  time  to  realize  that  Paul  was  always 
bored  by  Browning.  As  I  remember,  he  never 
found  anything  of  interest  written  by  that 
great  poet  except  Fra  Lippo  .lAppi,  and  he  ex- 
plained this  exception  by  saying  "  The  old 
duffer  was  so  game/7  as  if  he  felt  he  must 
apologize  for  his  singular  taste. 

In  looking  back  from  my  present  stand- 
point, I  can  understand  that  Paul  must  have  Base-ball 
made  a  like    unhappy  discovery  about  me 
when  he  patiently  tried  to  initiate  me  into  brutal 
the  mysteries  of  base-ball  and  foot-ball.     For 
I  unhesitatingly  pronounced  the  one  stupid 
71 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

and  the  other  brutal  and  after  a  few  trials  I 
declined  to  go  with  him  to  witness  either. 
Paul  took  the  matter  with  masculine  philos- 
ophy and  went  cheerfully  by  himself  to  see 
his  favorite  games  j  he  regarded  my  attitude 
as  truly  feminine  and,  therefore,  to  be  tolerated 
and  ignored. 

But  I  took  no  such  comfortable  view  of  his 
What  a  man  shortcomings.     I  was  crushed  by  the  thought 

learns  m  ^at  ke  wjlom  j  worshipped  had  no  tastes  in 
college 

common  with  mine.     I  tried  to  discover  what 

he  had  studied  in  college,  and  what  he  cared 
for ;  I  found  his  most  vivid  memories  of  his 
college  days  related  to  proud  records  made  by 
the  foot-ball  team  or  the  crew  to  both  of  which 
he  had  belonged.  Incidentally  he  seemed  to 
care  for  discussions  of  railroads,  tariffs,  or 
currency  reform  or  supply  and  demand  of 
various  uninteresting  commodities ;  his  only 
clear  ideas  of  any  historical  period  seemed  to 
be  connected  with  the  making  of  tariff  laws 
or  experiments  in  inflating  currency,  which 
were  the  parts  of  history  that  I  had  skipped 
as  far  as  I  was  allowed  to.  Secretly,  I  had 
always  regarded  political  economy  as  a 
72 


THE  STORY  OF  A  MARRIED  LIFE 

fertile    field  for   the    planting   of  personal 
opinions  which  could  never  reach  the  fruition  An  unripe 
of  positive  proof;  so  I  had  little  patience  harvest 
that   my  hero   should   care  for  this  weedy 
harvest. 

My  dear  Idol,  you  are  a  stranger  in  this 
western    world    of   progress    and     woman's   WJiyawoman 

triumph  :  so  I  will  tell  you  now  that  there  is  ^.^ a 

Philistine 

no  Philistine  among  them  all  so  intolerant 
and  self-centered  as  the  woman  educated  by 
and  among  women ;  and  the  reason  for  this 
lies  in  the  excess  of  feminine  influence.  It  is 
largely  because  woman  is  not  satisfied  with 
less  than  knowing  all  at  once.  Man  plods 
along  in  his  investigations  knowing  that  he 
will,  at  death,  have  pushed  his  way  only  a 
step  or  two  into  the  great  unknown.  "Woman 
is  impatient  and  naturally  will  study  only 
along  those  lines  where  finality  seems  attain- 
able. And  when  she  teaches,  she  holds  her- 
self strictly  to  facts  and  deals  only  with  what 
she  deems  known  or  knowable,  and  "what  she 
don't  know  is  n't  knowledge."  Her  belief  in 
what  she  has  learned  is  vital ;  there  is  a  fierce 
earnestness  in  both  teacher  and  pupil  that 
73 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

will  not  admit  of  anything  that  may  not  be 
Woman  would  learned  and  expressed  with  exactness,  except 

reduce  all  in  Qne  cLirection.      In  religious  speculation— 

things  to 

terms  of  in  thinking  out  the  unknowable  of  the  soul 
herself  woman  finds  a  deep  satisfaction.  But  this  comes 
from  the  same  impatient  desire  to  know  all 
—to  express  the  workings  of  the  universe  in 
terms  of  herself.  Having  reduced  everything 
in  the  known  world  to  her  own  comprehen- 
sion, she  reaches  out  after  the  first  great  cause 
and  the  final  great  results,  and,  unabashed, 
proceeds  to  grasp  them  in  her  own  little 
hands.  Woman  is  not  a  Philistine  because  of 
self-conceit ;  on  the  contrary  she  walks  with 
humility  alon^  the  paths  of  knowledge.  But 
her  standards  are  fixed  and  her  faith  in  what 
she  has  been  taught  is  literal,  unyielding  and 
unwavering. 

Such  a  Philistine  was  1 5  the  only  women  I 
Philistine  had  known  who  did  not  appreciate  Browning 
wedded  to  did      t  h        th    temerity  to  confess  it.     The 
athlete 

only  women  I  had  known  who  cared  naught 

for  Shakespeare  except  when  they  saw  his 

plays  acted  by  a  Booth  or  Irving  were  shallow 

and  to  be  pitied.     The   only  women  I  had 

74 


THE  STORY  OF  A  MARRIED  LIFE 

known  who  cared  nothing  for  the  music  of 
Richard  Wagner  were  those  who  made  no 
pretence  to  either  musical  taste  or  knowledge. 
Yet,  here  I  was  married  to  a  man  who  went 
to  sleep  while  listening  to  Browning's  greatest 
poems,  who  had  never  read  a  Shakespeare 
play  in  his  life,  and  who  openly  declared  that 
Gilbert  and  Sullivan  had  done  infinitely  more 
for  music  and  humanity  than  the  great 
Wagner. 

Yet  these  differences  were  only  the  lesser 
and   superficial    ones    with   which    I   found   The  antipodal 

myself  confronted.     The   vast  difference  in  'tan^ointsof 

man  and  wo- 
the  antipodal  standpoints  of  the  masculine  man 

and  the  feminine  were  a  source  of  deeper  per- 
plexity to  me.  One  of  the  beautiful  things 
about  my  friendship  with  women  was  the 
perfect  understanding  they  accorded  me  j 
when  I  married  I  believed  that  in  the  man  I 
loved  I  should  always  find  the  same  delight- 
ful comprehension  of  myself.  During  our 
engagement  I  believed  that  I  had  it  j  I  looked 
into  Paul's  eyes  and  saw  it  there ;  I  touched 
his  hand  and  the  sense  of  it  thrilled  me 
through  and  through.  Little  by  little  the 
75 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

truth  dawned  upon  me  that  Paul  understood 
me  not  at  all ;  and  worse  than  that,  his  mind 
was  wont  to  wander  to  other  things  when  I 
was  trying  to  explain  myself ;  he  apparently 
did  not  care  to  understand  me. 

And  more  vital  than  all  was  the  difference 
TJie  difference  between  man's  love  and  woman's  love.     The 

between  man's  conviction  finany  came  to  me  that  what  was 
love  and  wo- 
man's love  of  the  spirit  to  me  was  merely  of  the  senses  to 

him ;  and  in  the  bitterness  of  my  heart,  I 
came  to  believe  that  man's  love  had  for  its 
basis  utter  selfishness.  What  would  have 
been  the  outcome  if  I  had  brooded  over  these 
things  alone  and  unaided,  I  do  not  know. 
But  I  had  a  strong  and  understanding  friend 
in  Paul's  mother.  She  said  to  me  one  day 
rather  abruptly : 

"Child,  don't  think  that  men  and  women 
are  alike  ;  they  are  as  different  as  the  poles." 

"I  am  finding  that  out,"  I  answered  bit- 
terly. She  looked  at  me  keenly  and  said  : 

"  Marian,  you  are  on  the  wrong  track ;  you 

A  reconstruo-  are  trying  to  reconstruct  your  husband  to  fit 
Uon  of  ideals  p  ideals  wMle  it  would  be  mucn  more  to 

neoessar*    * 

the  point  to  reconstruct  your  ideals  to  fit 

76 


THE  STOKY  OF  A  MARRIED  LIFE 

your  husband.  Change  your  plan  ;  study  your 
husband  sympathetically  j  go  over  into  his 
territory  instead  of  trying  to  pull  him  over 
into  yours.  Paul  is  a  good  man  and  has  good 
ability,  although  he  is  not  very  scholarly  nor 
very  profound.  I  know  that,  for  I  have 
watched  him  carefully  from  babyhood  up  ;  but 
you  will  find  that  he  has  good  judgment  and 
common  sense.  You  are  cleverer  than  he, 
and  for  that  reason  you  should  be  mistress  of 
the  situation.  Study  your  husband,  learn  his 
needs  and  fill  them  ;  and,  I  assure  you,  he  will 
be  as  wax  in  your  hands." 

"  The  one  thing  that  I  have  beyond  all 
despised  is  the  woman  who  manages  her  hus- 
band," I  exclaimed  indignantly,  "  it  is  a  sordid 
relation,  and  I  will  have  none  of  it." 

"Tut,  tut,"  said  mamma,  "There  are  two 
sides  to  that  question  j  the  management  of  the  The  right  way 


woman  who  works  her  husband  for  her  own  1°  ^an^e  a 

husband 

selfish  ends  may  deserve  your  contempt. 
But  the  management  of  the  wife  who  is  wise 
and  unselfish  and  which  has  for  its  end  the 
happiness  of  her  husband  and  the  peace  of 
her  home  is  something  very  different.  There 
77 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

was   never    yet    a    happy  and    harmonious 
Matrimony  on  marriage  without  much  management  on  the 

the  gobeUnk  part  of  either  husband  or  wife  or  both ;  and 
plan 

the  one  who  does  it  the  best  is  the  one  who 

wields  the  most  power  in  the  home  as  well  as 
out  of  it.  You  know  how  the  children  make 
gobelinks  by  placing  a  drop  of  ink  in  a 
folded  paper  and  then  squeezing  it  into 
strange  figures  which  are  perfectly  sym- 
metrical when  the  paper  is  unfolded  !  Well, 
a  successful  marriage  does  not  require  that 
the  two  parties  become  exactly  alike  as  are 
the  two  halves  of  a  gobelink.  You  must  be 
careful,  Marian,  you  are  building  your  hurts 
into  a  precipice  which,  all  too  soon,  neither 
you  nor  Paul  will  be  able  to  scale." 

"  Paul  does  not  and  never  can  understand 
me,"  I  cried  j  and  she  answered  with  deep 
meaning : 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  you  would  be  most  uncom- 
Tke  wise  wo-  fortable  if  he  did.  That  you  could  wish  it 

man  does  not  Sh0ws  your  profound  ignorance  of  men :  for 
wish  to  be  too 

well  under-  the  woman  who  really  knows  men,  would  not 

stood  for  worlds  have  herself  translated  over  into 
the  masculine  understanding.    Be  thankful 

78 


THE  STORY  OF  A  MAKRIED  LIFE 

that  your  husband  does  not  understand  you 
and  never  will.  But  are  you  sure  that  you 
are  trying  to  understand  Paul  ?  You  can 
never  do  it  from  your  own  pinnacle.  Come 
down,  my  dear,  to  the  masculine  level  and 
begin  like  a  child  to  learn  your  lesson." 

She  came  over  to  me  and  gave  me  one  of 
her  rare  kisses  and  then  said  :     "  Forgive  my   Which  is  real 

lecture,  child,  but  the  test  of  character  lies  in  and  which  is 

imitation  f 
accepting  and  making  the  best  of  that  which 

IS,  and  not  in  wearing  one's  self  out  against  its 
immutability."  She  took  my  hand  tenderly 
in  hers  and  continued  with  a  smile.  "  When 
little  girls  who  love  dolls  see  a  baby  they  are 
wont  to  regard  it  as  a  real  live  dolly,  and  never 
for  a  moment  realize  that  their  doll  is  an 
imitation  baby.  Study  your  real,  little  girl, 
and  see  if  your  ideal  has  even  the  virtue  of 
being  a  good  imitation." 

There  is  no  person  so  helpful  to  a  wife  as  a 
wise,  sympathetic  mother-in-law.     I  pondered  A  wise  woth- 

long  on  her  words.     The  Is  of  my  life  seemed  er-in-law»a 

wife's  best 
to  be  utter  ruin  of  ideals  and  happiness ;  if  friend 

there  was  any  way  to  make  "  the  best  of  it " 
I  was  willing  to  try. 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

What  at  first  amazes  and  then  thwarts  a 
Marts  primi-  woman  in  her  attempt  to  understand  a  man 

twenessi  a  is  that  he  is  so  primitive  and  simple,  while 
stumbling 
Uock  to  sne  is  so  complex  and  intricate.     This  is  quite 

women  %$  much  of  an  obstacle  to  woman's  under- 
standing of  man  as  to  man's  understanding  of 
woman. 

I  followed  mamma's  advice ;  since  Paul 
Base-ball  vs.  would  not  listen  when  I  read  Browning,  I 
Browning  sollgnt  assiduously  to  find  something  to  which 
he  would  listen  with  interest  and  pleasure.  I 
discovered  that  he  responded  to  Short  Sixes 
and  to  Soldiers  Three,  and,  to  my  surprise,  I 
found  wholesome  happiness  for  myself  in  such 
reading.  Since  he  repudiated  Wagner,  I 
played  for  him  gay  bits  from  Rubinstein  and 
movements  from  the  lighter  operas.  I  ear- 
nestly put  my  well  trained  intellect  to  fathom- 
ing the  mysteries  of  base-ball ;  and  I  steeled 
my  sensibilities  until  I  could  witness  with- 
out flinching,  gladiatorial  combats  between 
gigantic  elevens.  I  secretly  began  reading 
Adams  and  Mill  until  I  finally  began  to  com- 
prehend something  of  the  principles  of  politi- 
cal economy,  and  could  listen  intelligently 
80 


THE  STORY  OF  A  MAEEIED  LIFE 

while  Paul  elucidated  his  views  on  various 
phases  of  this  great  science.     I  did  ail  of  these   Learning  to 
things  half-heartedly  and  solely  because  I  be-  Usten 
lieved  mamma  to  be  a  very  wise  woman.     But 
the  results  proved  so  gratifying  that  I  was 
inspirited  and  mightily  encouraged.     Paul  re- 
sponded quickly  to  my  new  attitude  ;  he  was 
merry  and  truly  happy   in  our  home,  and 
never   again  evinced  restlessness  when    we 
spent  evenings  by  ourselves. 

Then  came  to  me  what  must  always  be  the 
supreme  experience  of  woman's  life— that  of  Motherhood 

motherhood.     Perhaps  of  all  the  revelations  the  suPreme 

experience  of 
that  it  brought  to  me  the  most  precious  was  W0man 

the  true  meaning  of  man's  love.  Paul  was 
uplifted  by  the  consciousness  of  the  little  life 
dependent  upon  him,  and  his  tenderness  and 
care  for  me  were  unbounded.  When  at  last, 
he  held  our  little  daughter  in.  his  arms,  I  felt 
that  again  he  embodied  my  ideal  of  man- 
hood. The  months  which  followed  were  the 
happiest  of  my  life.  Together  we  watched 
the  entrancing  baby  ways  with  adoring  eyes ; 
and  the  astonishing  growth  of  baby  intelli- 
gence with  the  rapturous  sense  of  possession. 
81 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

Then  came   the    days   of  despair  when  she 
sickened. 

Dear  Idol,  sometime  in  your  far  away  tem- 
The  death  of  pie,  a  mother  has  stood  before  you  mute  with 
the  First-born  the  despair  that  fined  her  breast  when  she 
gazed  into  the  dull  eyes  of  her  sick  baby ! 
Though  she  belonged  to  another  race   and 
another  land,  the  feeling  was  the  same,— for 
it  is  ever  the  same  when  death  claims  the  first- 
born. 

With  the  agony  of  grief,  came  to  me  the 
full  realization  of  my  utter  dependence  upon 
Paul's  love.  He  was  stronger  than  I  j  and  for 
all  my  spiritual  aspirations,  his  vision  was 
clearer  and  his  faith  more  firm  than  mine. 
Then  came  the  second  blow,  a  thousand  times 
more  terrible  than  the  first. 

It  was  not  of  death  that  I  meant  to  tell  you ; 

The  Suttee  I  meant  only  to  say  that  as  life  threw  wide 

of  Gil  lands   Qpen  ^  doQr  to  the  happiness  and  growth 

of  motherhood,  it  was  closed  and  I  was  thrust 
back.  As  I  was  laboriously  overcoming  my 
selfishness  and  righting  my  ill-formed  ideals, 
and  saw  before  me  the  development  and 
82 


THE  STOKY  OF  A  MAK&IED  LIFE 

larger  opportunities  of  wifehood,  the  black 
portal  was  again  lowered  before  me  and  I 
must  turn  back  alone.  You  did  not  come 
from  the  land  of  the  suttee,  yet  I  fancy  that 
rite  is  not  essentially  different  from  the  inner 
experience  of  any  widow  in  any  land  who  has 
fathomed  the  depths  of  a  husband's  tender- 
ness and  has  learned  to  depend  upon  his 

love. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Some  there  be  who  are  privileged  to  mourn 
as  they  long  to  mourn,  yet  who  shall  say  that  TJiepotent  key 
it  is  loyal  to  the  dead  or  best  for  the  living ! 
Grief  and  loss  are  mystic  keys,  and  they  may 
lock  us  each  in  a  lonely  cell,  or  they  may  un- 
lock the  gates  that  lead  to  a  larger  activity. 
One  or  the  other  must  happen,  since  nothing 
can  ever  be  again  as  it  was  before. 

Almost  immediately,  I  was  called  home  by 
the  illness  of  my  step-mother,  and  again  was 
to  encounter  the  dread  mystery  of  death.  I 
had  no  time  for  thought  under  the  duties 
which  fell  upon  my  unused  but  willing  shoul- 
ders. I  went  through  the  days  unfalteringly, 
and  all  I  knew  was  that  I  ached.  The  ego 
83 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

was  submerged  in  a  dim  sub-consciousBess  oi 

pain  and  the  days  were  too  short  for  the  work 

I  had  to  do.     There  are  some  periods  in  life 

The  welcome  when  one  is  grateful  for  the  lash  in  the  hand 

lash  in  the  of  j)uty  .  one  welcomes  the  blows  since  they 
\and  of  Duty 

serve  to  hurry  one  on  through  the  hours,  un- 
til night  and  sleep  of  exhaustion  shut  the  door 
behind  a  day  full  of  ignored  memories. 

Only  a  brief  four  years  had  elapsed  since  I 
left  that  home  a  bride,  and  again  I  was  in  it 
with  the  necessity  upon  me  of  giving  constant 
care  to  my  delicate  baby  brother  and  what  of 
cheer  was  possible  to  my  bereaved  father.  As 
I  look  back,  I  cannot  remember  how  those 
first  years  were  lived.  I  went  on  talking  with 
people  and  being  friends  with  people,  kissing 
those  I  loved  and  helping  those  dependent  up- 
on me— but  there  was  nothing  of  all  this  that 
was  real.  Acts  are  only  real  when  we  do  them 
wholly  and  heartily  j  something  was  gone  out 
of  me  so  that  I  could  not  give  myself  entirely 
Tlie  automa-  to  any  one  or  anything— I  was  an  automaton. 
ton  I  stopped  suffering  because  my  powers  for 
suffering  seemed  so  utterly  inadequate.  I  did 
not  worry  because  I  had  lost  the  power  of 
84 


THE  STOEY  OF  A  MARRIED  LIFE 

worrying.     I  was  not  serene,  I  was  simply 
stony. 

.  .  •  . 

After  all  this,  do  you  think  I  am  likely  to 
marry  again  ?  To  take  upon  myself  new  and 
vital  problems  to  solve  at  the  expense  of  well 
earned  serenity  and  arduously  attained  hap- 
piness? Verily,  I  say  you  nay. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MUSINGS    CONCERNING    SECOND    MARRIAGES. 
HILDA 

NOVEMBER  21ST :— You  look  wearily  out 
.,  of  your  upturned  eyes  to-night,  you  poor 

roses   dear^  and  j  fear  tliat  yOUr  r£le  as  confessor  js 

becoming  onerous  ;  but  you  must  really  con- 
tinue to  listen.  This  morning  there  came  for 
me  a  half  bushel  of  Jacqueminot  roses,  superb 
flowers,  and  I  tried  to  arrange  them  in  the 
drawing  room;  but  they  would  not  disport 
themselves  gracefully  and  I  was  as  awkward  in 
placing  them  as  I  am  in  placing  their  giver. 
All  day  I  have  been  in  a  maze  of  bewilder- 
ment that  I  did  not  say  to  that  man  last  night, 
"  I  shall  never,  never  love  you  and  I  shall 
never,  never  marry  you,  and  that  ends  the 
matter."  I  think  the  reason  I  did  not  say  it 
was  because  I  felt  it  would  not  make  the 
86 


SECOND  MARKIAGES.     HILDA 

slightest  impression  upon  Mm.  I  felt  like  a 
helpless  baby  last  night  and  I  have  felt  like  a 
"  fool  "all  day. 

After  all,  youth  is  the  only  safe  period  for 
being  a  fool.  Then,  it  is  somehow  a  serious  Youth  thepre 
business  f  it  may  be  tragic  j  it  is  always  dram- 
atic  and  there  is  always  present  the  blessed 
unusedness  which  makes  one  wonder  if  any 
one  had  ever  been  such  a  fool  before.  But  as 
the  years  go  by  the  dramatic  phase  vanishes, 
and  being  a  fool  is  simply —being  one.  There 
is  an  uninteresting  and  arid  quality  in  the 
experience  that  is  not  exhilarating ;  and  when 
one  is  two  kinds  of  a  fool,  as  I  am  this  min- 
ute, the  situation  is,  to  say  the  least,  not 
amusing.  As  age  comes  creeping  on,  there  is 
only  one  reflection  that,  in  the  least,  mitigates 
folly,  and  that  is  the  beautiful  inevitableness  Being  a  fool 

of  it ;  it  makes  one  wonder  if,  after  all,  being  apart  °f the 

great  scheme 
a  fool  at  times  is  not  an  integral  part  of  the  Of  things 

great  scheme  of  things. 

Your  Teak- wood  Prescience  has,  I  suppose, 
divined  the  two  phases  of  my  present  folly.   Thefastina- 
What  do  you  think  of  a  woman  who  cares  ** of  brinks 
for  a  man  when  she  has  not  been  invited  to, 
87 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

and  then  marries  a  man  she  does  not  care  for, 
because  she  is  invited  to  ?  I  note  that  you  are 
turning  pale  at  the  contemplation  of  such  a 
spectacle.  Yet,  do  you  really  believe  such 
things  of  me?  Perhaps  I  am  only  on  the 
brink  ;  being  on  the  brink  of  a  wild  and  fool- 
ish action  is  quite  as  fascinating  and  dangerous 
as  hanging  over  the  brink  of  a  chasm,  and 
gazing  at  the  swirling  waters  below. 

Nay,  Confessor,  do  not  frown  !     I  still  stand 
The  culpabil-  by  my  creed  that  a  second  marriage  is  a  sign 

^  °Nolah  that  the  gods  fail  utterly  to  Aculeate  wisdom 
in  the  human  species  through  experience.  If 
one  has  experienced  one  happy  marriage,  then 
one  should  thank  heaven  and  be  satisfied ; 
while  if  the  marriage  was  unhappy,  then 
one  surely  ought  to  thank  heaven  that  it  is 
over,  and  rest  satisfied.  The  only  excuse  for 
second  marriage  seems  to  be  based  on  that 
primal  act  of  Noah's  which  sent  all  the  crea- 
tures into  the  ark  two  by  two.  Please  do 
not  look  so  sleepy,  I  am  not  going  to  keep 
you  awake  until  2  A.  M.  as  I  did  last  night, 
for  I  am  sleepy,  myself,  sir. 
88 


SECOND  MARRIAGES.    HILDA 

NOVEMBER  22D:-Do  you  feel  pleasant  this 
evening?  I  hope  so,  for  I  feel  particularly 
pleasant  and  complacent. 

Mr.  Morris  called  this  afternoon  and  my 
heart  was  flint ;  nay,  more,  it  was  a  polished  A  heart  hard 

brass  ball,  and  when  he  attempted  to  make  c  iough  to  a 

tak*  a,  polish 
an  impression  upon  it  he  saw  simply  his  own 

distorted  visage  looking  back  at  him.  I  at- 
tained this  condition  of  polished  safety  by  be 
ginning  my  day  with  calling  things  by  their 
right  names ;  and  when  I  call  things  by  their 
right  names,  it  is  my  equivalent  for  direct 
and  forceful  profanity. 

NOVEMBER  23D:— Has  it  ever  occurred  to 
your  oriental  mind  that  I  seem  to  be  ac-  A  social 
quainted  with  very  few  people?  Don't  be 
misled !  I  have  so  many  people  around  me 
all  the  time  that  I  give  myself  the  luxury 
of  ignoring  them  when  I  talk  to  you.  I 
meant  to  confess  mere  abstractions  to  you  and 
leave  out  people  entirely  $  but  it  has  not 
seemed  practical  to  do  this  in  every  case.  As 
a  matter  of  fact  my  chief  fault  is  that  I  give 
89 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

too  much  of  my  life  away,  and  to  too  many 
people,  I  suspect.  I  often  feel  as  if  I  were  a  sort 
of  social  lunch-counter,  always  so  crowded 
that  no  one  ever  gets  a  square  meal  from  it. 
Friends  ought  really  to  be  an  avocation  in- 
stead of  a  steady  occupation. 

NOVEMBER  24TH :— I  am  going  to  introduce 
Hilda  you  to  another  person  to-night— my  beauti- 
ful, my  most  interesting,  my  dearest  Hilda. 
She  has  been  across  the  seas  six  months,  and 
now  she  is  coming  home,  and  her  world  re- 
joices. I  have  always  felt  that  though  you 
were  a  god,  yet  being  a  wooden  one  there  was 
hardly  enough  of  you  to  go  around  if  I  di- 
vided you  among  all  'of  my  valued  friends. 
Therefore  I  have  been  careful  as  to  which 
ones  were  permitted  to  enter  your  temple ; 
but  for  your  own  enjoyment,  I  must  tell  you 
of  Hildegarde,  mine  own  friend. 

When  one  woman  calls  another  "dearest 
"Dearest  friend"  she  may   mean  any  one  of  several 

fnen     an  j^ings.     She  may  mean  by  this    term,   her 
elastic  term 

sentimental  affinity— the  one  towards  whom 

she  reaches  with  every  emotion  j  or  she  may 
90     . 


SECOND  MAEEIAGES.     HILDA 

mean  anybody  at  all,  for  it  is  an  expression 
that  may  be  likened  to  a  rubber  band— what 
it  includes  depends  on  how  thin  it  is  stretched. 
My  dearest  friend  is  not  my  affinity,  for  I 
have  never  had  an  affinity  since  I  was  in 
boarding  school.  In  fact,  Hilda  and  I  seldom 
see  things  alike  or  like  the  same  things,  though 
we  are  usually  interested  in  the  same  people. 
Hilda  is  the  cleverest  and  most  interesting 
woman  in  the  world,  except  Ma  Belle.  She 
is  years  younger  than  I,  but  she  is  so  clever  Aman'sjudg- 

that  this  does  not  matter.     Her  judgment  is  ment  and  a 

woman's 
so  excellent,  and  she  sees  so  clearly  the  re- 

lation  of  things  that  she  might  almost  be  a 
man,  were  it  not  that  she  is  the  most  womanly 
of  women.  She  is  fair  to  look  upon,  but  her 
appearance  is  misleading ;  her  face  is  child- 
ishly round,  and  her  eyes  are  large  and 
heavenly  blue  with  the  innocent  expression 
so  often  characteristic  of  near-sighted  eyes. 
Her  cheeks  are  pink  and  her  hair  is  pale,  soft, 
brown,  almost  golden.  She  looks  out  of  her 
big  blue  eyes  upon  the  world  with  the  appar- 
ent artlessness  of  a  babe  ;  and  when  she  opens* 
her  pretty  lips,  one  expects  that  gentle,  sugary 
91 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

remarks  will  fall  therefrom.  Never  was  a 
Hildegarde's  greater  mistake !  She  can  be  and  often  is 
tongue  keen?  incisive  and  ruthless  in  her  conversa- 
tion anent  both  things  and  people.  Tom  said 
of  her  once,  "  I  fear  not  the  wrath  of  God  nor 
the  tongues  of  men,  but  I  quail  before  the 
tongue  of  Hildegarde  Vincent."  Not  that  she 
is  cruel  at  heart,  perish  the  thought !  But 
she  has  such  a  keen  wit  that  her  repartee  is 
like  lightning— it  illuminates  fiercely  and  is 
likely  to  strike  almost  anywhere.  She  is  a 
Hilda's  most  highly  cultured  young  person  also  ;  she 
culture  seems  t0  have  imbibed  the  classics  from  baby- 
hood, and  I  have  always  had  a  theory  that 
she  only  needed  to  wait  until  she  had  cut  her 
teeth  to  converse  fluently  in  Greek.  Her 
literary  tastes  are  so  superior  to  my  own  that 
if  she  were  not  as  modest  as  she  is  learned,  she 
would  make  me  feel  that  I  am  very  crude, 
indeed.  She  loves  music,  and  she  plays  the 
piano  because  she  loves  to  and  not  because 
she  has  any  ambition  to  become  an  artist. 
Therefore,  she  plays  exquisitely  and  with  an 
informing  spirit. 

Hilda  and  I  have  spent  many  happy  hours 
92 


SECOND  MARRIAGES.     HILDA 

together  talking   over   the    things  that  are 
worth  while,  but  we  are  never  sentimental.  Hilda's 
No  one  could  be  sentimental  with  Hilda,  not  lovers 
even  her  lovers.     Hilda  does  not  take  much 
interest  in  her  lovers ;   I  am  usually  the  one 
who  is  obliged  to  take  interest  in  them.  Many 
is  the  one  I  have  had  to  gently  but  firmly  re- 
fuse vicariously,  before  he  gathered  courage 
to  ask  and  get  his  conge  at  first  hand. 

I  reproach  Hilda  with  her  heartlessness  j 
and  then  she  declares  that  the  young  men  are  Not  a  match- 
in  love  with  me  instead  and  accuses  me  of  ma1cer  from 

choice 
being  a  matchmaker.     This  last  imputation  I 

resent  deeply.  I  would  sooner  be  a  dispenser 
of  cold  poison  to  a  guileless  populace,  than  to 
help  to  construct  bonds  which  are  as  likely  to 
chafe  to  the  bone  as  to  tether  the  wearers  in 
flowery  fields  of  joy.  When  once  I  indig- 
nantly repudiated  the  accusation  she  looked 
at  me  quizzically  and  said  with  great  show  of 
candor,  "Why  no,  Marian,  you  are  really  no 
matchmaker,  but  are  responsible  for  much 
falling  in  love.  But  you  cannot  help  it ;  you 
are  a  stimulating  atmosphere,  like  the  spring-  A  springtime 
time  f  such  emotions  just  naturally  grow  and  influence 
93 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

flourish  in  your  mere  presence/7  and  this  is 
all  the  satisfaction  I  got  for  my  rebellion. 
Hilda  and  I  often  discuss  matters  with  a  great 
deal  of  heat,  for  she  has  a  fine  spirit  and 
plenty  of  temper ;  but  she  is  generous  and  in- 
finitely sympathetic  and  her  friends  find  her 
altogether  adorable. 

NOVEMBER  25TH  : — DidyourHighMightiness 
Receptions  ever  attend  a  reception  ?  Judging  by  the  cut 
and  the  fixed  of  your  coat^  j  slu)uld  think  not .  but  judging 
smile 

by  your  fixed  smile  despite  inner  pangs  Ishould 

say  you  might  have  had  a  long  experience 
in  receptions.     I  am  just  home  from  one  with 
the  babel  of  voices  still  ringing  in  my  ears, 
and  my  head  is  dizzy  with  the  gleam  of  bare 
shoulders,    glittering    pompons    and    whole 
cemeteries  of  tomb-stone  shirt-fronts.     When 
I  see  so  many  men  in  dress  suits,  I  always 
wish  that  I  could  paint  that  wide  expanse  of 
Genre  skirt-  shirt-front   with  some   genre   picture   which 
bosoms  snoui(j  represent  the  man  behind  it  j  for  in- 
stance, I  would  paint  on  Theodore  Morris7 
immaculate  plaque  a  serpent  and  a  dove.     He 
evidently  felt  and  rebelled  against  my  flintiness 
94 


SECOND  MAKKIAGES.     HILDA 

and  to-night  he  did  not  even  try  to  see  his  re- 
flection in  the  polished  brass  ball,  but  instead  Jealousy  the 

saw  himself  reflected  from  a  pair  of  saucy  head-li9ht  but 

not  the  engine 
blue  eyes ;  and  he  must  have  found  it  most 

satisfactory,  judging  by  the  time  he  devoted 
to  this  productive  industry.  I  saw  it  all  with 
entire  placidity.  One  is  grateful  for  the 
wisdom  of  years,  sometimes  ;  I  will  never  be 
driven  to  any  action  by  jealousy.  Jealousy 
is  not  love  any  more  than  the  head-light  is 
the  engine  5  yet  many  have  mistaken  the  one 
for  the  other  and  then  have  wondered  why 
the  train  matrimonial  did  not  move  when 
hitched  to  it. 

As  I  was  saying  good  night  to  my  hostess, 
I  saw  the  "porcelain  box  "  coming  towards 
me ;  he  not  only  came  but  took  calm  posses- 
sion of  me,  escorted  me  to  the  cloak  room, 
and  then  tucked  me  carefully  into  the  car- 
riage with  his  usual  indifferent  assurance. 

Oh,  I  am  so  tired !    It  is  rather    hard   to 
have  lived  so  long  that  one's  geese  and  one's  Geese  or 
swans  are  all  geese  alike.     Perhaps  wisdom  swans* 
and  experience  are  meant  to  give  one  a  higher 
appreciation  of  geese  rather  than  depreciation 
95 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

of  swans.  The  chief  difference  between  them 
is  that  the  swan  has  a  neck  like  the  serpent 
which  beguiled  Mother  Eve,  while  the  neck 
of  the  goose  is  hardly  long  enough  to  tie  into 
bow-knots.  But  what  have  necks  to  do  with 
the  matter  !  Geese  are  really  much  wiser  and 
nobler  creatures.  There  is  a  nice  picture  in 
our  museum  of  a  burial  tablet  of  some  ancient 
Greek  maiden  whereon  she  is  depicted  sitting 
with  her  pet  goose  at  her  side.  On  my  burial 
tablet,  there  will  need  to  be  but  one  figure, 
and  that  will  not  be  of  the  maiden. 

NOVEMBER  26TH  :— Did  Your-Swan-ship  ever 
AniceUndof  know  any  geese  in  Japan?  I  have  been 
goose  ]iaunte(j  by  visions  of  a  whole  flock  of  one 
particular  goose  all  day.  It  has  been  a  day 
full  of  places  where  I  was  needed  and  I  think 
I  filled  the  needs.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  real 
meaning  of  being  a  goose  is  the  consciousness 
of  having  under  one's  quills  sufficient  down  to 
pillow  a  whole  world  of  unrest,  or  mayhap, 
only  enough  to  pillow  one  dear,  tired  head. 

Father  needed  help  to-day,  as  his  instruc- 
tor was  sick.    So   I  averaged  examination 
96 


SECOND  MARRIAGES.     HILDA 

papers  and  wrote  reports,  and  to-night  he  is 
placidly  smoking  his  pipe  and  reading    The  One  sure 

Nation.    Ma  Belle  had  a  sick    headache:  I  source  of  dis- 

enchantment 
found  her  struggling  to  get  up   and  go   to   a 

charity  committee  meeting,  and  she  looked 
all  she  felt.  I  know  of  no  ailment  that  com- 
petes with  a  sick-headache  in  the  power  to 
disenchant  its  victim  with  life,  the  world, 
and  the  eternal  verities.  So  I  coaxed  Ma 
Belle  to  lie  still  and  promised  to  do  her  vi- 
carious honor  in  the  honorable  committee ; 
with  a  groan  of  relief  she  sank  back  to  her 
pillow  and  her  misery.  I  do  not  much  enjoy 
committee  work ;  I  am  by  nature  an  unor- 
ganized being,  and  like  to  carry  on  my  ac- 
tivities in  my  own  way.  But  I  stood  up  in 
that  meeting  most  vigorously,  and  rushed 
business  through,  right  over  the  prostrate 
forms  of  caprices,  prejudices  and  qualms.  So 
efficient  was  I  that  a  lady  came  to  me  after- 
wards and  said  she  hoped  I  would  be  made  PerturUng 
chairman  at  the  next  meeting,  and  I  stood  success 
aghast  before  this  misguided  success  I  had 
achieved.  Success  is  like  lightning,  one  can 
never  guess  where  it  is  going  to  strike. 
97 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

Tom  was  here  this  evening  ;  he  was  mani- 
festly blue  and  it  pleased  him  to  allow  me  to 
minister  unto  him,  probably  because  Ma 
Belle  was  ill.  I  made  him  "  comfy  "  on  the 
library  sofa,  and  read  to  him  cheerful  stories 
from  the  last  magazines.  He  was  so  grateful 
and  dear  that  I  was  inspired  to  go  skipping 
around  on  all  sorts  of  emotional  pinnacles, 
forgetting  all  about  the  years  I  have  spent 
wandering  bruised  and  battered  in  malarial 
valleys. 


98 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  THANKSGIVING    DINNER  AND    CONVERSA- 
TIONAL DESSERT 

THANKSGIVING  NIGHT  :— Do  you  have  a 
day  set  apart  in  Japan  for  being  thankful  Thanksgiving 
whether  you  have  anything  to  be  thankful 
for  or  not  ?  I  was  the  one  this  year  to  give 
the  thanksgiving  dinner  for  our  small  family. 
Of  course  Ma  Belle  was  here  and  to  my  dis- 
may Joe  insisted  on  inviting  his  beloved 
Theodore ;  it  is  my  private  opinion  that  this 
artful  gentleman  has  subsidized  Joe.  How- 
ever, I  warned  Joe  saying  :  "  Please  make 
him  understand  he  is  your  guest." 

"  All  right,  Marnie,  I  will  soak  up  all  the 
credit  for  ttie  dinner,"  he  answered  cheer- 
fully. 

The    dinner  was  good,  but  I  was    a   most  A 
stupid   hostess,  I    suffered    a  conversational 
99 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

numbness  which  rendered  me  helpless.  I 
felt  as  if  my  social  paws  were  covered  with 
dough  so  that  I  could  not  really  take  hold  of 
any  handle  which  the  talk  chanced  to  offer. 

Ma  Belle  was  at  her  best  and  scintillated 
in  a  way  to  distract  attention  from  my  own 
unlighted  wick.  His  Lordship  was  so  evi- 
dently fascinated  by  her  that  I  begin  to  see 
relief  ahead  $  he  will  transfer  his  age-ignoring 
affections  to  Ma  Belle,  who  is  not  half  so  old 
as  I  any  day,  and  is  twice  as  interesting  as  I 
am  at  my  best.  We  were  discussing  a  cer- 
tain novel  of  purpose  that  people  are  reading 
and  arguing  about,  and  Ma  Belle  said  : 

"  There  was  something  tonic  in  the  strong, 
Be  bad  and  stern  creed  of  our  Puritan  ancestors  which 

you  will  be  sa|^  piainiy  .     jf  yOU  do  wrong  you  will   go 
made  into  a 

to  hell.     But  the  warning  signal  shining  in 

lurid  letters  now  is,  if  you  do  wrong  you  will 
be  made  into  the  chapters  of  a  book  j  and  it 
is  enough  to  glue  us  fast  to  the  page  of  virtue. 
Such  a  puerile  nemesis  as  this  makes  one 
sick  of  the  flowery  paths  of  indulgence." 
Then  up  spoke  the  young  man : 

"  When  I  write  a  book,  Madam  Lee,  you 
100 


A  THANKSGIVING  DINNER 

will  certainly  be  in  it,  but  it  shall  be  a  novel 
of  delight  and  not  of  purpose."  He  received 
an  interesting  flash  from  mamma's  black 
eyes  for  this  and  Joe  said  : 

"  No  use,  Theo.,  you  could  never  put  Tante 
Belle  in  a  book.  You  would  have  to  tell  un- 
true things  all  the  time  to  convey  a  true  idea 
of  her.  Tante  Belle  cannot  be  reduced  to 
the  English  language." 

"Belle,  you  have  attained ! "  exclaimed 
father,  "here  are  two  youths  making  you  the 
most  beautiful  compliments  and  I  am  longing 
to  do  the  same  but  find  that  with  age,  what  is 
in  the  heart  is  not  so  easily  vocalized.  Tell 
me  how  you  manage  it  ?  " 

"  My  decrepit  head  is  dizzy  with  so  many 
compliments.  I  will  confide  to  you  my  secret,  An 

Eobert— it  is  that  of  the  gambler  who  believes 

epitaph 
so  enthusiastically  in  his  own  little  pair  of 

deuces  that  his  opponents  are  led  to  believe 
he  holds  a  royal  flush.  On  my  tombstone, 
Robert,  I  am  going  to  have  this  inscription : 
'  Here  lies  a  woman  who  bluffed  so  unflinch- 
ingly that  her  contemporaries  were  con- 
strained to  admit  that  she  had  lived  V  "  and 
101 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

she  gave  father  a  look  which  I  did  not  under- 
stand ;  but  I  think  he  did  for  he  flushed. 

In  the  drawing  room  Mr.  Dresden  China 
drew  his  chair  rather  closer  to  mine  than  was 
necessary.  After  a  time  Joe  was  called  away, 
and  father  and  Ma  Belle  became  absorbed  in 
discussing  the  question  as  to  whether  Indian 
Yogis  are  Christian  Scientists,  and  my  com- 
panion said  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  This  is  the  thankfulest  thanksgiving  that 
Doubtful  I  have  ever  had  ;  but  next  year  I  shall  be  still 
reasons  for   more  thankful." 
lemg  thankful 

"How  about  the  next  one? "I  asked  per- 
versely. 

"  The  next  year  I  shall  be  so  happy  that  all 
the  days  which  follow  will  be  thanksgiving 
days,"  he  answered  with  perfect  assurance. 
I  had  a  mind  to  ask  him  what  he  thought  was 
going  to  happen  j  but  I  was  afraid  that,  if  I 
did,  he  would  tell  me,  so  I  said : 

"  This  morning  I  was  trying  to  '  think  up ' 
my  mercies  in  order  to  bring  myself  into  a 
thanksgiving  mood;  but  aside  from  health, 
strength  and  happiness  and  a  few  other 
incidentals,  I  found  my  inventory  a  short  one." 
102 


A  THANKSGIVING  DINNER 

"  Do  you  know  that  when  you  wear  a  blue 
dress  your  eyes  are  blue,  and  when  you  wear   Chameleon 
a  gray  dress  your  eyes  are  gray  ?  "  he  asked,  ^es 
looking  at  me  speculatively. 

"  And  when  I  wear  a  red  dress  my  eyes  are 
red?" 

"  Your  eyes  are  never  read,  by  me  at 
least,"  he  retorted  without  a  smile. 

"  It  is  pusillanimous  to  retreat  behind  a 
pun,"  I  objected.  He  answered  with  mean- 
ing: 

"  My  lady,  when  you  fight  with  shafts  of 
ridicule,  you  must  expect  to  witness  ridicu- 
lous retreats.  However,  please  remember 
that  I  live  to  fight  another  day  when  victory 
shall  be  mine." 

"  Will  you  wear  laurel  wreaths  upon  your 
brow,  or  carry  laurel  branches  in  your 
hands  ? "  I  asked  derisively. 

"  I  shall  carry  them  in  my  heart  where  they 
belong,  and  where  you  can  guard  them,"  he  A  safe  place 

answered.     Then  we  looked  at  each  other  a  *OT 

laurels 
moment ;  I  was  curious  to  discover  if  his  face 

said  anything.     In  a  way,  it  did  j  there  were 

certain  lines  about  his  mouth  which  showed 

103 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

determination  and  his  eyes  were  steady  and 
consequently  soon  put  me  on  the  defensive. 
I  was  glad  that  Joe  returned  just  then  and 
relieved  the  tension. 

Why    are  n't    men    straightforward     and 
The  missing  logical  I    Why  does  n't  the  next  thing  natu- 

linkinmascu-  rall     fonow  the  preceding  one  with  them? 
line  character 

And  this  man  is  the  most  disconcerting  of 

them  all ;  there  is  a  link  lost  in  the  logic  of 
his  actions  j  the  result  is  a  breathless  uncer- 
tainty as  to  what  he  will  say  and  do  next.  I 
almost  wish  you  were  a  man  instead  of  an 
image,  for  then  you  possibly  might  explain  to 
me  these  mysterious  masculine  vagaries. 

This  evening  Tom  came,  and  he  with 
Ma  Belle  shared  our  somewhat  desultory 
thanksgiving  supper  Tom  was  in  good  spirits 
and  said  he  had  been  having  a  fine  holiday 
with  his  "  things  in  law."  Father  and  Tom 
smoked  and  we  sat  about  the  library  fire  and 
talked  of  many  things ;  among  them,  the 
question  as  to  whether  a  holiday  was  a  joy  or 
a  bore  and  an  interference  with  work. 

"  Is  n't  it  fine  that  man  is  so  adaptable  that 
he  has  turned  the  primal  curse  into  a  final 
104 


A  THANKSGIVING  DINNER 

blessing?    Almost  all  that  the  race  asks  now 

is  to  be  allowed  to  work  continuously/'  mused  The  primal 

father.     Ma  Belle  continued  his  thought :          ™rse:  a-ftnal 

blessing 

•  "  Yes,  and  the  best  thing  about  work  is  that 
it  is  no  moralist.  It  accepts  skill  as  graciously 
from  the  hands  of  the  prisoner  in  stripes  as 
from  the  hands  of  the  priest  in  robe  and  stole." 

"It  seems  to  be  the  fate  of  man  to  want  one 
thing  and  get  another ;  he  longs  for  comfort  Mankinds 
and  ease  and  he  gets  discomfort  and  hard  *oor  bar9ains 
work ;  and  then  he  is  obliged  to  humiliate 
himself  by  confessing  that  what  he  gets  is 
better  for  him  than  what  he  wanted/'  com- 
mented Tom. 

"It  is  a  great  step  forward  to  be  content 
with  the  result.  Perhaps  true  wisdom  lies  in 
learning  to  exchange  the  something  we  desire 
for  the  something  we  get  and  not  feel 
cheated,"  returned  father. 

"Yes,"  replied  Tom  "our  truest  success  evi- 
dently consists  in  winning  the  game  by  carom-   Caroming 
ing  against  the  immutable  and  being  content  adainst  **« 
with  skilful  zig-zags  instead  of  direct  lines  of 
victory."     Then  Joe  remarked  feelingly  : 

"Gee  !  After  we  have  changed  our  point  of 
105 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

view  so  that  our  idea  of  paradise  is  hard  labor, 
I  hope  there  will  be  another  Eve  and  another 
serpent,  and  that  the  resulting  curse  will  be 
'  Go  forth  and  take  a  rest.7  " 

"It  is  not  hard  work  nor  overwork  that  is 
We  should  be  the  trouble/7  said  Ma  Belle,  "it  is  the  lack  of 
well-balanced  balance  which  worries,  and  wears  us  out.  I 

have  seen  a  certain  toy  sold  upon  the  streets  so 
weighted,  that,  however  it  tumbles,  it  always 
comes  to  rest  head  up  and  smiling.  If  we 
could  only  arrange  our  burdens  likewise ;  if 
they  could  be  so  balanced  and  adjusted  that 
instead  of  oppressing  us  they  would  help 
us—" 

"To  bob  up  serenely ;  that  is  a  bully  idea," 
interpolated  Joe.  She  continued : 

"Ballast  is  not  only  good  but  necessary, 
The  place  for  only  the  place  for  it  is  in  the  hold,  evenly  dis- 
ballast  tributed ;  it  should  not  be  festooned  around 
the  masts." 

Later,  Joe  went  home  with  Ma  Belle ;  father 
fell  asleep  and  snored,  and  I  ignored  with  all 
my  might,  saying  to  Tom  : 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  are  so  much  happier 
to-day." 

106 


A  THANKSGIVING  DINNER 

"It  is  bravado,"  he  answered  gloomily,  "the 
gods  have  been  having  some  fun  with  me  of 
late— fun  for  them,  I  mean." 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  me  about  it,"  I  said 
wistfully. 

"Oh !  there  is  nothing  to  tell,  except  it  is 
such  a  deuce  of  a  job  to  keep  the  fiddler  Paying  the 
paid."  fiddler 

"Heaven  forbid  that  we  cease  dancing  on 
that  account,"  I  murmured ;  "after  all, 
strength  of  character  does  not  lie  so  much  in 
not  dancing,  as  it  does  in  having  the  courage 
to  grin  when  paying  the  fiddler." 

"Great  Scott !  One  would  not  kick  so  much 
if  one  simply  danced  ;  but  when  one  is  obliged 
to  don  the  cap  and  shake  the  bells  to  the  time 
of  the  music,  one  has  a  right  to  feel  injured." 

"Oh  !  I  don't  know,"  I  went  on  musingly, 
"the  tyranny  of  the  bells  and  bauble  is  most  The  tyranny 
alluring.     We  try  to  remember  to  be  wise,   of  the  cap  and 
but  the  wide  grin  paralyzes  thought ;  and  the 
silvery  bells  chime  in  our  ears  an  enchanting 
music  that  makes  us  forget  everything,  and 
most  of  all  our  own  folly." 

I  arose  and  went  over  and  shook  father  into 
107 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

consciousness,  and  he  exclaimed  with  ready 
sang  froid :  "I  awake  from  dreams  of  thee,  my 
dear ;  but  need  I  be  awakened  with  so  much  ab- 
ruptness f  "  Soon  after,  Tom  said  good-night 
in  a  most  casual  manner  and  left  me  depressed, 
for  some  quite  inexplicable  reason. 

Now,  you  Squat  Image,  tell  me,  if  you  can, 
Life,  a  series  how  I  am  to  make  the  grass  of  this  day's  ex- 
perience  into  the  hay  of  wisdom!  At  best, 
this  world  is  a  place  where  one  may  seldom  do 
the  right  thing  at  the  right  time  ;  and  at  the 
age  of  forty,  one  becomes  resigned  to  all  sorts 
of  compromises,  even  to  calling  the  same,  Life. 


108 


CHAPTER  X 

MUSIC  LAND,  AND  A  YISIT  TO  TOM 

DECEMBER  2D  :— I  have  been  looking  at 
you  long  this  evening,  and  wondering  if 
it  is  of  any  use  to  talk  to  you  about  music.  I 
have  heard  your  Japanese  music,  and  I  do  not 
believe  you  could  make  me  understand  what 
it  might  mean  to  your  soul,  except  that  I 
could  surely  feel  the  minor  wail  in  it.  How- 
ever, considering  that  you  are  a  god,  and'  a 
wooden  one  too,  you  can  probably  comprehend 
many  things  which  I  may  not. 

I  long  to  tell  you  about  music,  if  there  be 
any  words  in  our  language  fit  therefor.  Music,  What  music  is 
dear  Idol,  is  another  world— a  world  that 
has  place  out  in  space ;  and  only  one  narrow 
bridge  of  sense  connects  that  world  with  ours. 
Over  this  bridge  we  pass  to  and  from  that 
wonderful  world,  in  which  there  is  naught  but 
109 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

motion.    There  the  soul  is  swayed  and  lifted 
That  other  to  mysterious  heights  and  then  plunged  into 

world  of  more  mysterious  depths  :  and  again  it  is  lifted 
music 

and  gently  cradled  in  the  sustaining  arms  of 

sound.  And  when  we  pass  over  into  that 
world  we  forget  all  that  is  or  has  been,  and 
become  unconscious  of  all  else  besides  this 
realm  of  exquisite  emotion.  And  because  of 
this  forgetting,  the  places  where  the  spirit  is 
chafed  and  worn  are  healed  and  made  whole. 
Therefore  is  it  that  we  of  this  restless  western 
world  have  deep  need  and  great  love  for 
music.  You,  perhaps,  do  not  need  it  so  much  ; 
for  your  every-day  world  is  steeped  in  calm, 
and  for  another  world  you  have  hasheesh. 
All  of  this  is  apropos  of  a  concert  which  I 

Brutal  attended  this  evening.     Joe  invited  me  to  go, 
conversation   and  j  sat  -n  the  mi(M  Qf  Ms  «fraternity  oui> 

fit"  as  he  elegantly  (?)  describes  his  fellows. 
Strictly  speaking,  Mr.  Morris  sat  constantly 
at  my  left,  while  Joe  managed  a  succession  of 
young  men  at  my  right.  Some  of  these  felt 
it  incumbent  upon  them  to  entertain  me  lest 
I  should  be  too  much  bored  by  the  music ; 
and  if  I  could  have  slain  them— cut  their 
110 


MUSIC  LAND,  AND  A  VISIT  TO  TOM 

heads  off  then  and  there  without  making  too 
much  litter,  I  should  cheerfully  and  unhesi- 
tatingly have  done  so.  There  is  nothing  so 
exasperating,  when  one  is  intent  upon  cross- 
ing the  narrow  bridge  into  that  far-away 
world  as  to  be  haled  back  by  brutal  con 
versation. 

These  kindly  but  misguided  youths  found 
one  number  of  the  program  quite  admirable.  Piano 
It  was  when   Professor  Von   Something  or  Prostration 
Other  made  an  unprecedented  attack  upon 
the  piano,   and   kept  at  it  until  the  wires 
seemed  quite  unstrung  j  finally  when  he  re- 
treated the  poor  instrument  was  obviously  in 
a  fit  of  nervous  prostration. 

The  wonderful  thing  about  this  concert  was 
that  the  man  at  my  left  spoke  only  when  it 
was  right  to  speak,  and  several  times  he  came 
to  my  aid  in  warding  off  my  conversational 
boys,  deftly  reducing  them  to  dumbness.  He 
gave  me  the  feeling  of  support  by  his  sym- 
pathy 5  evidently  his  bridge  is  close  to  mine. 
I  spoke  to  him  but  a  conventional  word  about 
the  concert,  and  yet  when  he  wrapped  my 
cloak  around  me  he  said : 
1U 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"I  never  realized  before  that  you  cared 
Sympathy  so  much  for  music.     I  shall  come  sometime 


quite  unex-    and      ^      for  „      j  made  nQ  answer    SQ 

pectea 

long  as  he   declared  he  was   coming,  there 

seemed  little  left  for  me  to  say.  But  on  the 
way  home  I  probed  Joe,  saying  : 

"I  did  not  know  that  Mr.  Morris^was  a 
musician  ;  does  he  play  the  banjo?  " 

"Banjo  !  Gee,  would  n't  he  like  that  !  He 
plays  a  violin  made  by  some  old  Italian 
duffer.  He  thinks  we  fellows  are  n't  good 
enough  to  listen  to  his  music  except  on  grand 
occasions.  'Usually  he  and  Phil  Schlegel  go 
off  together  and  play  for  hours  with  the  door 
locked.  Theo  loves  Phil's  accompaniments 
and  neither  likes  to  have  any  one  around 
listening  ;  but  some  of  the  fellows  go  and  listen 
at  the  key  -hole  and  they  say  that  their  play- 
ing is  out  of  sight." 

"Naturally  !  "  I  ejaculated  crossly.  I  some- 
Too  many  way  did  not  like  the  idea  of  his  loving  music 

Or  belng  a  musician  5  he  ought  to  be  contented 
with  being  a  porcelain  box  without  being  an 
autoharp  also. 

112 


MUSIC  LAND,  AND  A  VISIT  TO  TOM 

DECEMBER  4th. :— I  think  I  shall  erect  an  altar 
to  your  Pagan  Divinity,  and  burn  things  on 
it  after  the  fashion  of  altars ;  the  first  thing  I 
shall  burn  is  a  letter  I  received  to-day  which 
says: 

PHI  DELTA  ALPHA  LODGE,  December  4th,  1904. 
My  Ladye: 

I  have  been  holding  my  pen  over  the 
paper  for  a  long  moment,  while  thinking  how  to  A  most 
'fitly  address  you.  "Dear  "yea,  verily,  so  deeply 
dear  that  the  word  quite  fails  to  express  it.  I  shall 
have  to  find  some  new  word  to  express  you  as  I 
know  you.  Any  word  would  fit  you  so  long  as  it 
were  not  used  twice;  dear,  good,  bad,  cynic,  opti- 
mist, adorable,  and  a  whole  dictionary  full  of 
others. 

That  is  why  I  find  it  so  difficult  to  find  one  word 
that  will  fit  the  composite  picture  of  you  which  is 
mine.  Did  you  ever  notice  how  much  more  beauti- 
ful is  the  composite  photograph  than  any  of  those 
from  which  it  is  made  ?  It  is  because  I  comprehend 
your  many-sidedness  that  my  you  is  better  and 
lovelier  than  any  single  phase  of  you  could  possibly 
be.  I  see  the  harder  lines  of  your  strength  softened 
by  your  womanliness  and  tenderness;  while  your 
womanly  qualities  are  more  perfectly  rounded  be 
cause  of  the  child  that  is  still  in  you. 
113 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

But  I  could  write  a  volume  without  exhausting 
all  I  know  of  this  interesting  subject,  and  the 
object  of  this  note  is,  after  all,  to  tell  you  that  I  am 
called  out  of  town  for  three  days,  and  I  would  not 
have  you  forget  me  in  that  eon  of  absence.  Do  not 
forget  me,  my  ladye,  for  it  will  not  be  of  the 
slightest  advantage  to  you  if  you  do. 
Yours,  faithfully, 

THEODORE  MORRIS. 

Forget  him,  indeed  !     Little  god,  have  n't 

AtUrstfor  you  a  phial  of  Lethe  water  in  your  pocket  so 
the  waters  of  ^^  vou  can  giye  me  a 


Lethe 

me  the  comfort  of  forgetting  this  same  Theo- 

dore Morris  for  three  days  ?  But  meanwhile, 
please  do  not  let  me  forget  that  too  often 
what  is  meet  for  love  is  likely  later  to  turn 
out  meat  for  repentance. 

DECEMBER  STH  :—  I  had  another  letter  to- 
day from  another  man.  Yea,  from  quite 
a  different  man,  and  therefore  quite  a  differ- 
ent letter.  I  will  read  it  to  you,  and  I  shall 
be  greatly  obliged  if  you  will  tell  me  what 
you  really  think  about  it. 

THE  CLINTON,  December  9th,  1904. 
Qh  !    Madam  Marian,  knowest  thou  that  I  have 
114 


MUSIC  LAND,  AND  A  VISIT  TO  TOM 

sprained  my  ankle  and  lost  my  case  (  a  jury  being 

just  twelve  times  as  idiotic  as  it  would  be  if  com-    Quite  another 

posed  of  one  individual. )  kind  of  a 

I  am  laid  up  and  obliged  to  spend  my  time  in   letter 
meditation.     I  am  biffed  by  misfortune   on  both 
cheeks,  and  in  my  meditations  I  have  been  trying 
to  gather  figs  from  thistles. 

It  is  a  great  advantage  to  have  all  of  one's 
miseries  coincident  and  contemporaneous,  so  I 
plan  to  stop  smoking — unless  you  and  your  Ma 
Belle  come  to  see  me  and  cheer  me  sufficiently  so 
that  I  shall  be  courageous  enough  to  retain  one 

pleasure  in  life. 

Yours, 

TOM. 

P.  S.  My  philosophy  seems  quite  inadequate 
to-night  for  the  demands  upon  it ;  it  has  spells  of 
this  sort ;  'tis  a  slumpy  philosophy. 

T.  0. 


Of  course  we  went.    ,Tom  has  some  attrac- 
tive bachelor  apartments  with  some  beauti-  An  interesting 
ful  rugs  on  the   floors  and  some  delightful  mstt 
pictures  on  the  walls.    He  was  lying  on  the 
sofa  attired  in  a  most  becoming  brown  velvet 
smoking  jacket.   It  is  such  a  pity  men  cannot 
wear  the  smoking  jacket  at  social  functions  in- 
stead of  the  foolish  garment  customary. 
115 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

Ma  Belle  sat  by  his  side  and  patted  his 
hand  in  an  entrancing  manner  j  and  he  was 
miserable  enough  to  be  a  small  boy  and  be 
glad.  Ma  Belle  is  not  wasteful  of  her  caresses 
and  they  have  all  the  value  of  conserved 
boons. 

"  What  have  you  been  thinking  about  now 
that  you  have  had  nothing  to  do  but 
think  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Wondering  where  the  hole  in  the  center 

Profitless  of  the   maelstrom   leads   to,"    he   answered 
speculations   whimsicauy. 

"  I  think  the  rim  would  be  a  more  interest- 
ing subject  for  speculation/7  suggested  I. 
"  Anyway,  I  think  you  might  put  your  leisure 
to  better  use  by  just  loafing  and  inviting  your 
soul." 

"  It  has  been  so  long  since  I  sent  such  an 
A  mislaid  invitation  that  I  fear  I  have  lost  the  address," 
address  he  returned. 

"  Tom,  where  is  a  certain  document  that 
you  were  to  let  me  have  this  week  f  If  it  is 
at  hand  I  might  as  well  take  it  now  and  save 
you  further  trouble,  "  asked  Ma  Belle. 

"  It  is  in  the  library  desk,"  he  answered. 
116 


MUSIC  LAND,  AND  A  VISIT  TO  TOM 

"  Marian,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  step  into 
the  other  room  and  bring  me  a  paper  tied 
with  red  tape  that  is  in  the  middle  pigeon- 
hole of  the  lower  row  in  the  desk  by  the 
window  f  " 

I  entered  the  library  with  a  conscious 
pleasure  in  the  richness  of  color  which  per-  The  room 
vaded  the  place.  There  was  a  harmony  be- 
tween  hangings,  rugs  and  furniture  that  per- 
mitted no  one  thing  to  be.prominent  in  claim- 
ing the  attention  of  the  observer— a  har- 
mony which  mellowed  and  enhanced  the 
attractiveness  of  the  room.  The  desk  was  of 
handsomely  carved  mahogany— one  that  Tom 
had  found  in  Florence  years  before  ;  the  num- 
ber of  crowns  wrought  into  the  carving 
showed  that  it  had  once  been  used  by  royalty. 
As  I  reached  for  the  paper  the  lace  in  my 
sleeve  caught  the  top  of  the  ornate  silver 
inkstand ;  I  made  a  spasmodic  but  successful 
effort  to  avert  the  threatened  calamity,  and 
I  must  have  accidentally  touched  a  hidden 
spring ;  a  part  of  the  beautifully  patterned  secret 
front  below  the  pigeonholes  fell  back  on  its 
hinges  revealing  an  inner  compartment. 
117 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

What  I  saw  there  I  could  not  help  seeing  :  a 

Lilies-of-the-  bunch  of  sere  and  yellowed  lilies-of-the-valley 

Valley  tied  with  a  fade(j  purpie  ribbon.    I  hastily 

lifted  the  door  to  its  place  and  came  back  to 
the  other  room  with  a  queer,  guilty  feeling 
which  I  cannot  describe,  nor  quite  account 
for. 

Tom  was  manifestly  cheered  by  our  visit ; 
but  that  was  mostly  due  to  Ma  Belle's  efforts. 
I  could  say  but  little,  for  I  was  deeply  an- 
noyed at  my  awkward  intrusion  into  Tom's 
private  affairs.  I  should  have  felt  more 
honest  to  confess  the  blunder  at  once,  but 
that  would  have  been  absolutely  impossible. 
But  ever  since,  I  have  been  in  a  daze  won- 
dering, and  wondering, 


118 


CHAPTER  XI 

HILDA  PLAYS  AN  ACCOMPANIMENT 

DECEMBER  STH  :— Smile,  smile,  please 
smile.  For  if  gods  smile  not  at  the 
ways  of  men  and  women,  pray,  who  may? 
This  morning  I  had  a  telephone  message  from 
Mr.  Morris  telling  me  of  his  return  and  ask- 
ing if  he  and  Mr.  Schlegel  might  come  this 
evening  and  play  for  me  ;  of  course  I  said  I 
should  be  most  happy,  though  as  a  matter  of 
fact  I  was  quite  the  reverse.  Hilda  was  to 
spend  the  afternoon  and  evening  with  me  for 
our  first  long  visit  since  her  return. 

Moreover,  I  would  not  for  worlds  have  Hilda  The  most 

guess  the  infatuation  of  that  most  embarrass-  cruel  °f  ali 

criticism 
ing  youth.     She  would  either  make  sarcastic 

remarks,  or  think  them,  which  is  really  worse. 
The  cruelest  thing  in  the  world  is  the  un- 
spoken criticism  of  a  devoted  and  loyal  friend, 
when  intimacy  lays  bare  the  vulnerable  spot. 
119 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

It  sometimes  comes  to  me  like  the  vision 

Eeasons  of  a  nightmare  that  I  shall  finally  probably 

inexplicable  yield  and  marry  Theodore  Morris.     And  then 

the  thought  occurs  to  me  that  if  I  do,  Hilda 
and  Tom  and  my  other  friends  will  naturally 
have  to  know  about  it,  and  I  suddenly  realize 
how  utterly  preposterous  such  an  act  would 
be.  I  think  I  might  marry  him  if  no  one  ex- 
cept you  were  ever  to  know  about  it,  though 
why  I  would  do  it  is  beyond  my  fathoming. 

I  did  not  mention  to  Hilda  during  the  after- 
Brown  eyes  noon  that  I  expected  any  callers  in  the  evening, 
and  blue  though  I  thought  of  it  several  times.    Mr.  Mor- 
ris arrived  rather  early  and  alone  except  for 
his  violin,  which  is  evidently  a  creature  of 
much  personality  to  its  owner.     I  introduced 
him  to  Hilda,  and  his  inscrutable  brown  eyes 
looked  into  her  quite  inscrutable  blue  ones ; 
but  what  the   owner  of  either  pair  of  eyes 
thought  I  had  no  way  of  discovering. 

He  was  more  taciturn  than  usual  and  was 
A  social    evidently  annoyed  that  I  was  not  alone,  and 
acrobat  j-fcat  ^js  accompanist  did  not  come.    Hilda  was 
not  interested  and  stupidly  said  nothing  to  re- 
lieve the  situation.     Therefore  I  felt  it  incuin- 
120 


HILDA  PLAYS  AN  ACCOMPANIMENT 

bent  upon  me  to  break  the  tension  by  various 
socially  acrobatic  feats,  which  Mr.  Morris  re-  Reluctant 
garded  in  sphinx-like  silence,  and  Hilda  with  musicians 
speculative  amusement.  Their  combined  atti- 
tudes led  me  on  to  higher  leaps  and  to  a 
final  trapeze  performance,  during  which  I 
swung  giddily  from  the  new  Dante  collection 
in  the  University  library  to  the  antics  of  the 
last  minstrel  show.  At  length  I  gave  up  from 
sheer  exhaustion,  when  I  was  suddenly  in- 
spired to  suggest  that  Hilda  play  the  accom- 
paniment and  that  we  have  music  imme- 
diately. Mr.  Morris  looked  supercilious  and 
doubtful  and  Hilda  was  unfeignedly  wrathful. 
Then  I  grew  serene  and  insistent  and  felt  re- 
venged for  having  been  obliged  to  exhibit 
myself  in  the  ring  of  their  mutual  silence. 
Hilda  went  grudgingly  to  the  piano,  saying : 
"  I  hope  you  will  understand,  Mr.  Morris, 
that  I  am  your  involuntary  accomplice."  He 
said  not  a  word  but  I  noticed  with  a  chuckle 
that  he  looked  his  music  over  and  selected  the 
most  difficult  piece  in  his  roll.  If  it  had  been 
something  simple  and  easy,  it  is  possible  that 
Hilda  would  have  at  the  last  moment  refused 
121 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

to  play  at  all.  But  when  she  saw  those  pages 
of  notes  that  looked  as  if  they  .had  hysteria, 
she  sat  down  on  the  piano  stool  with  decision, 
and  her  pretty  lips  took  on  an  expression  of 
stern  determination  which  meant  accomplish- 
ment. 

Hilda  is  what  I  could  never  be—  an  ideal 

The  ideal  accompanist  ;    she  subordinates   herself   not 
accompanist  alone  to  the  music?  but  also  to   the  mood  of 

her  companion.  Their  first  page  together  was 
executed  almost  as  perfectly  as  if  they  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  playing  with  each  other 
for  weeks.  This  success  had  its  influence 
upon  them  and  I  felt  the  barriers  between 
them  melting  away  in  harmony. 

They  both  played  superbly,  and  I,  unno- 

Music  de-  ticed,  threw  myself  upon  the  sofa  and  covered 
mands  but  with  hands  while  j  listened.     I 


one  sense 

am  a  truly  primitive  being   and   I   cannot 

listen  to  music  and  see  anything  whatever 
coincidently.  I  am  either  seeing  all  things 
and  hearing  nothing  or  hearing  all  things  and 
seeing  nothing.  Therefore,  I  like  best  to  close 
my  eyes,  and  then  cross  the  bridge  to  music 
land  without  faltering  or  wavering.  They 
122 


HILDA   PLAYS   AN   ACCOMPANIMENT 

played  on  and  on,  and  finally  concluded  with 
Handel's  sonata  in  A  major.  So  moved  had 
I  been  with  their  music  that  I  felt  I  must  be 
careful  or  I  should  say  something  senti- 
mental ;  so  I  made  my  thanks  quite  com- 
monplace, and  the  conversation,  much  lim- 
bered by  the  music,  became  fairly  interesting. 

Since  Hilda  had  been  so  recently  in  Ger- 
many, we  naturally  questioned  her  about  the 
music  she  had  heard  while  there  ;  she  was  most 
enthusiastic  over  the  Probe  concerts  and  the 
opera.  She  turned  to  me  and  said  : 

"  I  thought  of  you,  Marian,  when  I  heard 
your  favorite  Trompeter  von  Saekkingen,  and  Vicarious 
experienced  several  thrills  for  you  ;  although  thrills 
when  they  sung,  'Es  ist  im  Leben  doch  so 
hdsslich  eingerichtetj  I  did  not  wipe  my  eyes 
nor  blow  my  nose  as  did  the  sentimental 
damsel  next  to  me.  By  the  way,  that  night 
we  sat  up  in  the  fourth  gallery  and  our  seats 
cost  eighty  pfennige  each ;  we  nibbled  lemon 
drops  and  looked  down  at  the  Parterre- Frem- 
den-Loge  and  the  Balkon  erster  Rang,  where 
you  and  I  in  our  opulent  youth  were  wont  to 
disport  ourselves.  Theater  prices  have  gone 
123 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

up  since  those  happy  days,  so  we  clomb  to  the 
tip-top  for  fun  and  experiment.  The  air  was 
not  so  bad  considering  that  it  was  German, 
but  the  bench  was  too  narrow  for  anything  save 
penance." 

".What  is  the  matter  with  the  German 
atmosphere,  is  it  thick  with  anything  besides 
harmony  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Morris. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  answered  Hilda  thought- 
TJw  fully,    "that  the  Germans  are  peculiar  in 

elements  in  tkeir  relations  to  the  elements.    They  seem 
Deutschland 

to  be  able  to  do  without  air,  fire  or  water  in 

their  habitations  and  daily  lives,  and  make  up 
for  it  by  their  love  for  the  dear  earth." 

"  How  cruel  of  you,"  I  exclaimed,  "  when 
you  know  that  the  German  attitude  toward 
music  is  ideal !  " 

"  I  was  speaking  of  their  relation  to  the 
elements  uand  not  to  the  Muses,"  corrected 
Hilda. 

It  was  rather  late  when  Mr.  Morris  went 
away.  I  was  for  some  mysterious  reason  im- 
pelled to  follow  him  to  the  door  and  say : 
"  Thank  you,  it  was  heavenly  ! " 

"  It  was  heaven  to  play  when  you  were 
124 


HILDA  PLAYS   AN   ACCOMPANIMENT 

listening,"  he  answered  in  a  tone  as  low  as  my 
own,   and   then  I  wished  I  had  had  sense  A  fatuous 
enough  to  have  kept  still.     I  do  not  under-  Romance 
stand  in  the  least  why  I  followed  him  to  the 
door  and  made  that  insane  remark  :  it  is  an- 
other instance   of  my  infinite  capacity  for 
fatuity. 

When  I  came  back  to  the  parlor  I  ex- 
perienced a  sense  of  uneasiness  and  guilt  j  but 
as  usual,  I  covered  my  perturbation  with 
cheerful  volubility.  I  asked  with  a  candid 
glibness  which  surprised  even  my  accustomed 
self: 

"  Hilda,     what    do    you    think    of    that  An  un- 
youth  ?  "  satisfactory 

conversation 

"  He  plays  extremely  well,"  was  her  non- 
committal reply.  I  went  on  : 

"  I  am  glad  Phil  Schlegel  did  not  come,  for 
I  never  heard  you  play  better." 

"  Thanks,  where  did  you  find  His  Lord- 
ship?" 

"  He  is  one  of  Joe's  friends,"  I  answered 

mechanically,  and  the  conversation  drifted  to 

other  channels.    But  I  had  an  inner  conviction 

that  we  were  both  consciously  avoiding  any 

125 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

discussion  of  Theodore  Morris.  Now  please 
Auricular  tell  me  why  she  did  not  wish  to  talk  with  me 
expansion  abont  Mm  ?  Does  she  suspect  anytlling  f  j 

do  not  believe  it.  What  is  there  to  suspect ! 
Nothing  at  all !  I  will  tell  you  a  secret  which 
I  discovered  some  time  since  :  Some  of  the 
heart's  experiences  are  auricular  and  some 
ventricular ;  but  it  is  only  once  in  a  lifetime 
that  the  whole  heart  is  concerned.  And  I 
have  a  foreboding  that  this  affair  of  mine  with 
Theodore  Morris  is  a  case  of  auricular  expan- 
sion, and  that  it  will  surely  result  in  the  devel- 
opment of  some  baleful  itis  which  cannot  be 
either  cured  or  endured. 

DECEMBER  9TH  :— I  am  glad  you  receive  my 
confidences  so  understandingly ;  it  encourages 
me  to  give  you  details. 

At  breakfast  this  morning,  Joe  asked  Hilda 
what  she  thought  of  his  friend  whom  she  met 
last  evening. 

"  Perfeckly  booful,"  she  replied  promptly. 
Joe  did  not  like  to  hear  baby-talk  applied  to 
his  hero  ;  so  he  asked  diplomatically  : 

"  Is  n't  he  a  fine  violinist  ?  " 
126 


HILDA    PLAYS  AN    ACCOMPANIMENT 

"  Yes/'  said  Hilda,  with  a  reticence  of  some 
unguessable  portent. 

The  whole  day  has  seemed  unreal,  espe- 
cially since  Hilda  went  home  this  morning.  Dreaming 

Many  times  I  have  found  myself  dreaming  of  witn  eyes 

open 

the  music  of  last  evening— dreaming  with 
my  eyes  open.  That  is  what  I  am  doing  with 
this  man  all  the  time— dreaming  with  my 
eyes  open. 

The  best  I  can  say  of  such  a  day  as  this,  is, 
that  though  it  shortens  my  life  by  twenty- 
four  hours,  I  am  glad  it  is  over.  Not  that  it 
was  an  especially  hard  day  but  it  was  be- 
wildering and  listless ;  and  now  I  listen  while 
the  tatters  of  this  battered  caravanserai  flap 
dubiously  with  every  wind  that  blows. 


127 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  COMEDY,   A  TRAGEDY,    AND    THE    WAY  OF 
THE  FOOL 

DECEMBER  10TH  :  —  I  do  not  Suppose  JOU 
ever  went  to  a  play  f  Or  was,  perchance, 
the  procession  of  humanity  before  your  shrine 
as  good  as  a  play  to  you?  To-night  Joe,  Mr. 
Morris,  Hilda  and  myself  went  to  hear  Nance 
Oldfield  which  was  wholly  delightful,  and  Made- 
laine,  which  was  wholly  depressing.  Between 
the  acts  Mr.  Morris  was  thoughtfully  looking 
at  the  audience  through  the  reversed  opera 
glasses ;  I  asked  the  reason  for  this  original 
performance,  and  he  murmured  : 

"I  am  trying  to  put  all  those  people  so  far 
away  that  I  can  believe  you  and  I  are  alone." 
He  then  turned  directly  to  Hilda,  with  whom 
he  had  been  carrying  on  a  spirited  conversa- 
tion, and  asked,  platitudinously : 
128 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  FOOL 

"I  suppose  you  speak  German  fluently?  " 

"Too  fluently,  alas  !  "  sighed  Hilda.   "I  had 
no  end  of  trials  because  of  this  ease." 

"For  instance!" 

"Well,  one  day  I  had  ordered  some  beautiful 
roses  to  deck  the  table  of  my  salon  for  ex-  Hilda  and  tht 
pected  guests,  but  the  roses  came  not ;  I  waxed   German 
nervous  and  was  on  the  point  of  starting  for    °9lffut 
the  flower  shop  when  I  met  a  servant  in  the 
hall  bearing  two  packages  of  flowers  and  who 
seemed  to  be  looking  for  some  one  to  rid  her 
of  her  burden.     With  a  cry  of  joy,  I  seized 
one  parcel  and  beat  a  triumphant  retreat. 
The  roses  were  not  the  kind  I  had  ordered, 
but  I  thought  they  had  been  sent  as  substi- 
tutes.    A  little  later  the  roses  I  had  ordered 
came,  and  the  messenger  knew  nothing  of 
those  I  already  had.     All  the  afternoon  I  won-  Misapplied 
dered  whose  roses  I  had  rifled  from  the  help-  roses 
less  Dienstmadchen  and  pictured  him  or  her 
foaming  at  the  mouth  with  vexation.     That 
evening  our  bell  rang,  and  a  tall  and  inoffen- 
sive young  fellow  asked  in  German  if  a  few 
roses  he  had  ordered  might  perchance  have— 
here  I  cut  in  with  artless  glee,  and  tried  to 
129 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL. 

express  in  hasty  but  well-chosen  terms  my 
distress  at  having  abducted  his  roses.  I  has- 
tened to  bring  him  the  flowers  and  to  explain 
the  situation  in  language  that  would  have 
brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  a  Goethe  or  a 
Schiller,  and  was  winding  up  with  a  fervid 
peroration  imploring  his  pardon,  and  assuring 
him  of  my  undiminished  esteem  for  his  nation 
and  himself,  when  he  suddenly  stemmed  the 
tide  of  my  eloquence  by  remarking  in  the 
most  English  of  English  : 

"  l  It  does  not  matter ;  I  thank  you  very 
A  safe  though  much.     Good  evening.7     I  longed   then  for 
frail  founda-  tlie  dear  dead  past  wken  my  vocabulary  was 
twn 

limited  to  guten  Morgen  and  danJce  schon,  for 

even  I  could  not  have  conversed  indefinitely 
on  that  frail  foundation." 

We  all  laughed,  and  even  while  we  were 
laughing  Mr.  Morris  turned  toward  me  and 
said  in  his  peculiar  sotto  voce,  a  way  he  has  of 
saying  things  to  me  without  moving  his  lips 
and  with  perfectly  expressionless  face,  so  that 
any  one  sitting  near  and  looking  directly  at 
him  would  not  know  that  he  was  speaking  : 

"How  superb  you  are  to-night!  You 
130 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  FOOL 

should  always  wear  that  exquisite  shade  of  Conversation 
gray ;  it  just  matches  your  eyes  and  hair  as  fw  two 
your  pink  roses  match  your  cheeks.     I  am 
sure  I  shall  write  a  poem  myself  on  <  My  Lady 
Gray-gown/  " 

And  while  I  was  listening  to  this  absurd 
talk,  I  felt  myself  blush  and  I  felt  as  fluttery 
as  if  I  had  been  sixteen.  Meanwhile  I  appre- 
ciated fully  just  the  kind  of  idiot  I  was.  Oh, 
dear  !  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  I  had  enough  of 
Life's  irony  on  hand  to  create  a  trust ! 

Between  the  plays,  Tom,  who  had  escorted 
Ma  Belle,  came  over  to  visit  us  and  sat  for  a 
moment  on  the  railing  of  our  loge  in  my  im- 
mediate vicinity. 

"Do  you  know  that  you  are  sitting  on  the 
brink  ?  "     I  asked  with  severity.     "If  you  fall  Several  kinds 
over,  you  will  be  drowned  in  that  sea  of 
humanity." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself,  I  can  swim  in  that 
sea  all  right.  My  real  danger  lies  in  carefully 
sitting  on  the  brink,  a  far  more  dangerous 
pastime  than  falling  over." 

"Why  do  you  talk  enigmas  to  me  who  never 
guessed  one  in  my  life?  "  I  asked  obtusely. 
131 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"Ah,  Marian,  are  n't  you  ashamed  to  wrest 
compliments  from  me  by  unfairly  pushing 
me  when  you  see  me  sitting  on  the  brink? 
To  be  explicit,  you  are  looking  so  particularly 
radiant  to-night,  that " 

"That  will  do/'  I  interrupted,  "I  shall  pon- 
der the  matter  and  perhaps  I  may  be  able  to 
guess  the  reason  for  such  unprecedented  re- 
marks." 

"No,  you  will  never  guess  j  for,  Madam 
Very,  very  Marian,  you  are  very,  very  stupid."  And 
stupid  £nen  i  Wondered  what  he  did  mean. 

The  last  play  of  the  evening  was  Madelaine, 
a  strong  presentation  of  the  old,  old  story— 
she  loving  so  much  that  she  must  weep  and 
upbraid,  and  he  be  bored  thereby  ;  a  story 
that  has  been  played  over  and  over  since  the 
creation  of  the  first  man  and  woman.  For 
do  -j  ou  know  it,  little  god,  man  loves  to  fight 
and  do  strong,  physically  aggressive  things 
for  a  woman,  but  he  does  not  want  her 
When  she  "wopsed"  around  him,  tangling  his  feet,  and 

loves  too  hindering  his  arms  meanwhile.     And  yet,  a 
much 

true  woman  was  never  yet  born  who  did  not 

have   it  in   her   to   passionately    desire  to 
132 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  FOOL 

tangle  and  hinder  the  man  she  loves.  Why 
is  this  so  ?  You  nor  all  your  fellow  gods  could 
not  tell.  And  it  is  a  wise  woman  who  guards 
carefully  that  tendency  in  herself  without 
asking  counsel  of  either  gods  or  men. 

No  one  can  be  powerful  and  masterful 
when  really  in  love ;  it  somehow  sweeps  out  A  dangerous 
the  foundations  from  under  one's  feet,  leaving  sPeculation 
nothing  to  stand  on.  I  wonder  how  it  would 
seem  to  be  married  to  a  man  and  not  love 
him  so  much  but  that  I  could  make  life  inter- 
esting every  day ;  to  be  able  to  give  him  the 
constant  impression  that  however  much  he 
already  had  of  me,  it  was  but  a  small  part  of  ' 
what  there  remained  to  attain,  and  in  all  ways 
give  over  my  energies  to  beguiling  him. 
Fascinating  vista,  that !  I  am  almost  afraid 
that  I  shall  try  it.  I  wish  you  would  give 
me  a  little  advice  for  the  strengthening  of 
my  vertebral  column;  it  is  so  limp  that  it 
manifestly  needs  starch.  What  a  delightful 
idea !  A  backbone  freshly  laundered ! 

After  the  play  we  all  felt  downcast,  and  The 

Mr.  Morris  proposed  that  we  "get  the  taste  ™staurant 

waiter's  hero 
out  of  our  mouths  "  by  a  supper  at  Trascati's  j 

133 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

and  at  our  urgent  invitation  Ma  Belle  and 
Tom  joined  us.  We  found  a  screened  alcove 
in  the  gay  little  restaurant  which  gave  us 
a  happy  sense  of  privacy.  It  was  a  pleasure 
to  me  to  witness  the  skill  with  which  Mr. 
Morris  ordered  the  supper— skill  that  obvi- 
ously made  a  mighty  impression  upon  the 
waiter.  Probably  it  is  more  difficult  to  be  a 
hero  to  a  restaurant  waiter  these  days,  than 
to  one's  own  valet. 

I  thought  I  had  never  seen  both  Ma  Belle 
and  Hilda  so  beautiful.  Ma  Belle  wore  a 
bodice  of  wine- colored  velvet  and  some  hand- 
some old  lace  ;  her  dark,  expressive  eyes  were 
full  of  scintillations  and  so  was  her  wit. 
Hilda's  gown  was  of  pale -blue,  fluffy  material 
which  made  her  head  look  like  that  of  a  rosy 
cherub  over  a  blue  cloud.  The  expression  of 
her  big  blue  eyes  was  more  than  usually 
innocent  and  guileless  and  I  predicted  trouble 
ahead.  Ma  Belle  was  indignant  at  having 
had  her  feelings  lacerated  by  the  play,  and 
said: 

"I  detest  these  social  plays.  If  we  must 
have  tragedy  let  us  have  the  real  thing,  like 
134 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  FOOL 

Julius  Caesar,  where  we  would  feel  hurt  if  the 

play  did  not  end  with  the  stage  heaped  high  The  only 

with  the  murdered  and  the  dead.     The  only  leoitimate 

tragedy 
legitimate  fool  on  the  stage  is  a  Touchstone 

or  a  Costard.  I  object  to  all  others,  and  I 
especially  object  to  this  Madelaine  because 
she  was  so  drearily  real." 

"Let  7s  have  a  round-table  on  the  interest- 
ing subject  of  fools,"  suggested  Joe,  "we  can  A  round-table 
drown  the  pangs  of  hunger  by  telling  about  ° 
all  the  kinds  of  fools  there  are.     Gee,  I  wish 
my  rhetoric  Prof,  could  hear  that  sentence, 
drown  the  pangs  !  Tante  Belle  you  begin  and 
tell  us  what  constitutes  a  fool." 

"A  fool,"  answered  Ma  Belle,  "is  a  person 
who  takes  infinite  pains  to  do  something 
which  neither  he  nor  anybody  else  wishes  to 
have  done.  A  fool  builds  his  mills  on  the 
theory  that  water  runs  up  hill  instead  of 
down." 

"It  seems  to  me,  the  difference  between 
a  wise  person  and  a  foolish  one  is  that  Two  ways  of 

when  the  former  meets  with  the  inevitable,  meetin9^e 

inevitable 
he  turns  his  back  upon  it  and  looks  in  the 

opposite  direction ;  while  the  latter  always 
135 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

kicks  it  hard  and  then  says  'damn'  because  it 
hurt  his  foot/7  said  Tom.  Mr.  Morris  toyed 
thoughtfully  with  his  fork  and  then  said 
smoothly : 

"A  fool  is  constantly  aware  of  the  pain  in 
Unexpected  his  own  heart ;  the  wise  feel  only  the  pain  in 

anatomical  the  hearts  of  others.     That  is,  a  fool  may  help 
knowledge 

others,  but  cannot  help  himself."   We  were  all 

silent  for  a  moment ;  we  were  rather  stunned, 
I  suspect,  to  discover  that  this  man  knew  any- 
thing about  hearts  and  their  troubles.  Hilda 
relieved  the  situation  by  declaring  impress- 
ively : 

"A  fool  does  not  count  his  steps  as  he  as- 

The  step  that  cends  life's  dark  stairway,  and  he  only  knows 

is  n't  there  wiLen  he  reaches  the  top,  by  the  jar  that  comes 

from   trying  to   ascend  a   step  which  is  n't 

there." 

"That  is  a  description  of  an  optimist,"  I 
objected. 

"  You  tell  us  what  an  optimist  is,  Madam 
Lee,"  said  Mr.  Morris. 

A  successful       "Oh,  an  optimist  is  one  who  is  always  try- 
-[ng  £O  make  apple-sauce  out  of  the  apples  of 
136 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  FOOL 

Sodom,"  answered  Ma  Belle   with  a  smile. 
"Marian  is  a  good  example." 

"Joe,  you  have  not  yet  defined  a  fool,"  said 
I,  trying  to  distract  the  attention  from  my 
optimism. 

"A  fool  spends  so  much  time  making  his 
living  that  he  has  no  time  to  live."  Joe's  air 
of  superiority  as  he  delivered  this  made  us  all 
laugh.  Then  Mr.  Morris  turned  to  me, 

"Mrs.  Lee,  I  am  curious  to  know  what  your 
definition  is  of  this  most  interesting  species 
which  we  are  discussing."  I  looked  him 
straight  in  the  eyes  as  I  said  : 

"I  agree  with  Ma  Belle,  a  fool  does  things 
she  does  not  wish  to  do,  just  because  she  is  a  Food  for 
fool,"  and  I  thought  if  he  understood  me  as  "ft***** 
well  as  he  pretended  to  he  might  find  food  for 
reflection  in  my  remark. 

"After  all  these  definitions,  almost  am  I 
persuaded  to  be  a  fool,"  he  answered  gaily. 
Ma  Belle  laughed  and  said  : 

"I  hold  that  one  owes  it  to  one's  self  to  be  a  The  debt  to 

fool  now  and  then,  but  one  surely  owes  it  to  selfand  to 

society 
society  not  to  act  like  one." 

137 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"It  is  the  wise  who  are  glad  when  the  oys- 
ters are  served,"  said  Tom,  dryly,  as  the  waiter 
appeared.  "While  we  were  still  at  table,  the 
clock  struck  for  midnight,  and  Tom  asked 
thoughtfully, 

"Will  some  one  please  tell  me  whether  mid- 
night belongs  to  the  day  before  or  the  day 
after?" 

"It  is  the  time  divide,"  said  Hilda,  "on  one 
Midnight  the  side  of  it  flows  the  stream  of  yesterday,  on 
time  divide  the  other  the  brook  of  to-morrow." 

"Not  always,"  ventured  I,  "for  sometimes 
it  brings  reminiscences  and  philosophizing 
over  the  day  passed,  and  then  it  is  a  part  of 
yesterday  j  and  sometimes  it  brings  vows  for 
future  improvement,  which  annexes  it  to  the 
morrow." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Tom,"  it  depends  upon  the 
notch  of  the  clock  where  we  begin  to  tear  the 
days  apart." 

"It  is  not  the  clock  but  sleep  that  separates 
our  days,"  said  Mr.  Morris. 

"Then  insomnia  would  make  life  one  long 
Hilda's  day,"  pertly  remarked  Hilda.     He  answered 
insomnia  witll  positiveness  : 

138 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  FOOL 

"You  never  had  insomnia,  Miss  Vincent, 
how  do  you  know  ? "  Hilda  opened  her  inno- 
cent eyes  at  their  widest  and  said  : 

"How  little  you  understand  me,  Mr.  Mor- 
ris, I  never  by  any  chance  sleep  ;  I  lie  awake 
every  night  meditating  on  how  farther  to  pur- 
sue the  primrose  path  of  joy." 

"Then  it  is  not  your  sins  which  keep  you 
awake !  "  he  asked  lamely. 

"Not  the  sins  I  have  committed,  but  those  I 
hope  to  commit,"  murmured  Hilda  sweetly  $  he 
looked  at  her  keenly,  and  I  wondered  what 
he  would  do  if  she  should  really  unsheath  her 
claws  for  his  edification.  Tom  said  smilingly : 

"An  interesting  vista,  that ;  won't  you 
please  tell  us  the  very  worst  sin  you  ever  were 
guilty  of? " 

"Murdered  little  children  for  the  corals  on 
their  necks,"  promptly  responded  Hilda. 

"The  very  first  time  that  I  ever  saw  you  I 
recognized  you  as  Gentle  Alice  Brown,"  de-  Tlic  Bab 

clared   Mr.    Morris,  impressively.     Ma  Belle  Ballads  in*" 

porcelain  box 

and  I  exchanged  glances  ;  the  porcelain  box 
evidently  contained  the  Bab  Ballads  among 
other  surprising  things. 
139 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

As  the  four  of  us  drove  home  we  let  Hilda 
out  first.  While  we  waited  for  Joe  to  return 
from  escorting  her  to  the  door,  Mr.  Morris 
took  the  seat  that  she  had  vacated  at  my  side, 
and  said,  with  quite  appalling  tenderness  : 

"  My  lady,  you  have  made  me  very  happy 
to-night." 

"You  have  great  powers   for  concealing 

A  deceptive  your  feelings.     I  should  never  have  suspected 

calm  j^j.  vou  were  animated  by  anything   save 

your    natural   calm,"  was    my   supercilious 

reply. 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do,  pipe  on  a 
An  obvious  reed  and  dance  like  a  faun  when  I  am  happy  ? 
indiscretion  Natural  calm  j  Natural  and  perpetual  tur- 
moil rather  !  I  fear  my  lady  has  made  little 
progress  in  understanding  me.  I  have  never 
experienced  a  day  of  calm  since  I  was  born 
that  I  can  remember."  There  was  a  note  of 
despondency  in  his  voice  as  he  said  this 
which  touched  me,  and  as  we  heard 
Joe's  approaching  footsteps  I  did  a  per- 
fectly insane  thing — I  for  one  brief  second 
let  my  hand  rest  upon  his  j  and  I  believe  that 
140 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  FOOL 

he  understood  that  it  was  an  act  of  contrition. 
I  am  perfectly  well  aware  that  my  attitude 
toward  him  is  perverse  and  often  unjust,  but 
how  can  I  help  it ! 

When  we  arrived  at  our  gate,  Joe  stopped 
to  pay  the  cabman,  and  Mr.  Morris  went  The  man 
with  me  to  the  door,  helping  me  skilfully  lcnows 
up  the  steps  by  holding  my  arm,  although  I 
was  wrapped  in  a  swathing  cocoon  of  opera 
cloak.  How  is  it  that  some  men  know  how 
to  do  all  those  things  which  add  to  a  woman's 
comfort,  and  some  others  just  as  good  and 
just  as  tender  are  so  helpless  and  awkward  ? 
Perhaps  the  skill  comes  from  much  practice  ? 
Perish  the  thought !  In  that  case  a  woman 
might  prefer  the  unskilful.  "  >T  is  a  poor 
thing,  but  mine  own,"  is  the  creed  feminine. 
However,  I  am  not  feminine  in  this  respect ; 
I  like  the  man  who  knows.  If  he  has  spent 
his  life  in  the  practice  which  makes  perfect, 
then  will  I  gladly  avail  myself  of  the  fruits 
thereof,  nor  spend  my  energies  speculating 
on  how  many  teachers  he  may  hay*  had. 
When  my  Sir  Gallant  bade  me  good  night,  he 
141 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

kissed  my  hand,  though,  of  course  I  wore  a 
glove.  I  have  just  been  examining  the  glove 
to  see  if  there  were  holes  burned  in  it. 

Come  to  think  of  it,  you  Poor  Heathen,  you 
A  Uss  do  not  know  what  a  kiss  is  !  How  I  am  to 
explained  enlighten  your  oriental  intelligence  on  this 
point  without  kissing  you,  I  fail  to  see.  A 
kiss  is  an  invention  of  mortals  so  that  they 
should  never  be  envious  of  the  gods.  It  is  a 
compensation  for  having  to  live  in  this  "  vale 
of  tears."  It  is  the  divine  seal  set  upon 
human  lips,  and  there  is  no  revealing  what  it 
covers.  It  is  the  focal  point  of  the  physical 
and  the  spiritual  j  yet,  like  all  the  gifts  of 
mortals  it  has  been  dragged  into  the  mire 
and  the  commonplace.  All  mankind's  be- 
longings, like  water,  seem  to  seek  the  lowest 
level,  ah  me  I 


142 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CHRISTMAS,  A  WALK  WITH  TOM  AND    AN  AN- 
NUAL SETTLEMENT  WITH  THE  FATES 


I  confess  that  I  have  retained 
the  attitude  of  a  child  about  this  day  j  Differing 

I  look  forward  to  it  with  breathlessly  joyful  views°f 

.  ,  Christmas 

expectation  ;  and  any  Christmas  present  how- 

ever worthless  intrinsically,  or  embarrassing 
in  its  uselessness  is,  to  me,  a  source  of  true 
delight,  and  I  spend  the  day  in  gloating.  I 
enjoy  the  preceding  weeks  of  making  and 
buying  things,  as  Hilda  says,  to  put  people 
under  obligations  to  me,  and  make  them  "  go 
staggering  on  a  whole  year  under  the  burden/* 
Hilda  does  not  take  my  view  of  Christmas  ; 
she  said  yesterday  :  "  I  should  like  to  abolish 
the  whole  cycle  of  presentations  ;  the  only 
thing  I  really  enjoy  about  Christmas  is 
getting  the  letters,  which  mostly  do  not  come 
because  my  friends  have  been  busy  making 
143 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

useless  and  futile  presents  instead  of  writing 
them."  I  imagine  that  if  the  Christmas  cele- 
bration had  been  kept  spiritual  instead  of 
physical  in  its  manifestations,  it  would  have 
been  better  for  most  "  grown-ups."  And  yet 
Christmas  is  the  only  instance  in  this  matter- 
of-fact  land  of  a  child  holiday  carried  over 
into  all  ages. 

I  did  have  one  little  mental  struggle  this 
Courage  year  while  planning  my  gifts :  I  could  not 
make  UP  mv  mind  whether  I  should  send 
Theodore  Morris  a  present  or  not.  I  was 
certain  that  he  would  send  me  something  in  a 
way  that  I  could  not  refuse  without  making 
myself  disagreeable,  and  I  haven't  moral 
courage  enough  to  bring  myself  to  be  dis- 
agreeable, no  matter  what  happens.  I  solved 
my  problem  by  sending  T.  M.  a  Mosher  book. 
Heaven  bless  Mr.  Mosher  for  making  pretty 
and  unusual  books  \  He  has  thereby  helped 
me  out  of  many  a  dilemma.  The  book  I  sent 
was  The  Kaziddhj  of  Sir  Kichard  Burton, 
which  seemed  sufficiently  impersonal  for  the 
situation.  As  I  feared,  a  present  came  from 
the  young  man  and  of  course  it  was  very  per* 
144 


CHRISTMAS 

sonal— a  gray   fan,   exquisite   enough   for  a 

fairy  princess;  with  it  came  a  card  bearing  A  fan  with  a 

the  inscription,  "  A  fan  for  My  Lady  Gray-  messa9e 

gown ;  may  it  keep  her  brow  cool  and  her 

heart  warm  for  the  giver."     I  thought  as  I 

gazed  at  the  dainty  web  that  what  I  needed 

most  was  sure  aid  in  keeping  my  head  cool  in 

my  relations  with  the  giver.     This  evening  I 

received  a  special  delivery  letter  from  New 

York,  where  he  has  gone  for  the  holidays,  and 

it  says : 

ff  Dear  My  Lady,  thank  you  for  this  little  volume 
so  beautiful  without,  and  so  philosophic  within. 
It  came  just  as  I  started  and  has  been  the  com- 
panion of  my  journey. 

"I  have  been  so  happy  all  day  that  I  had  small 
need  of  philosophy,  so  I  have  been  reveling  in  the 
beauty  of  the  verse.  I  gazed  out  of  the  window, 
and  watched  the  river,  turbid  but  luminous  like 
amber ;  and  the  white  sycamores  along  its  banka 
joined  hands,  and  danced  for  me  stately  minuets 
against  a  moving  curtain  painted  with  dull  blue 
hills  and  sodden  skies. 

"All  day  long,  whether  reading  or  looking  out  of 
the  window,  I  have  dreamed  of  My  Lady,  and  have 
murmured  over  and  over  : 
145 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

'All  other  life  is  living  Death, 

A  world  where  none  but  Phantoms  dwell, 
A  wind,  a  sound,  a  voice,  a  breath, 
A  tinkling  of  a  camel  bell.7 

Yours 
"  T.  M." 

Oh,  you  prescient  bit  of  wood,  will  you  tell 
"  The  tinkling  me  whether  it  is  T.  M.  who  is  listening  to  the 

°f  ^  °ieil»  tinklinS  of  the  camel  bell>  or  is  it;  ^  or  mayhap 
both  ?  After  I  had  read  this  letter  twice,  I 
longed  for  a  spot  in  a  desert  without  a 
caravan,  a  camel,  or  even  a  coyote  between 
me  and  the  horizon. 

To  turn  to  a  more  agreeable  topic,  Tom 

The  giver  of  sent  me  a  beautifully  illustrated  edition  of 
"Waiden"  Walden.  That  was  just  like  Tom;  there  is 
nothing  hectic  or  feverish  about  him  or  his 
relations  to  people  ;  he  is  devoted  to  Thoreau, 
the  man  who  said  "  I  could  tame  a  hyena 
more  easily  than  my  friend."  Nice  Christmas 
day! 

DECEMBER    26TH :— It  has  snowed  all  day 

great,  feathery,  lazy  flakes,  which   did  not 

seem  to  care  whether  they  were  coming  from 

140 


CHRISTMAS 

or  going  to  the  skies.  Hilda  spent  the  morn- 
ing with  me,  and  it  is  a  great  pity  that  you  A  disturbing 
were  unable  to  hear  all  that  we  said.  We  let  reticence 
the  years  lapse  and  were  girls  together,  and 
nothing  in  the  world  below  or  the  heavens 
above  was  safe  from  us,  our  interests  and 
opinions.  Once  I  said  to  Hilda  tentatively, 
"  What  do  you  think  of  Mr.  Morris  ?  "  "  Mr. 
Morris  !  Why,  I  have  n't  thought  much 
about  him,"  quoth  the  provoking  Hilda,  and 
the  conversation  lagged.  This  reticence  on 
Hilda's  part  seems  to  me  portentous  and 
makes  me  uneasy.  She  may  suspect  the 
truth,  but  I  doubt  it  5  she  is  far  more  likely 
to  suspect  that  I  am  trying  to  get  her 
interested  in  him. 

This  afternoon  Tom  telephoned  me  that  he 
was  coming  at  three  o'clock  to  take  me  for  a  A  snowy  walk 
walk.  That  is  just  like  Tom ;  no  one  else 
would  have  thought  of  taking  me  to  walk  on 
such  a  day.  I  was  ready  in  short  dress  and 
high  gaiters  when  he  came,  and  we  walked  up 
the  river  path  through  a  world  carved  from 
crystal.  The  white  hills  were  crowned  and 
girdled  with  purple  forests,  pale  purple  now 
147 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

behind  the  bridal  veil  which  obscured  them. 

Achieving  the  Strange  how  every  shadow  in  a  snowy  land- 

purples  scape  is  purple  !    It  is  a  fine  thing  to  be  able 

to  see  the  purple  in  the  shadows,  little  god ; 

when  one  has  achieved  the  purples,  one  is 

then  ready  to  live. 

The  weeds  by  the  roadside  were  so  covered 

The  ice-  that  they  made  strange  towers  and  minarets, 

bound  brook  as  if  thev   were    tempies   from  your  Orient 

wrought  in  alabaster  instead  of  ivory.  The 
wily  hemlocks  had  drooped  their  arms  and 
let  slide  the  snow  burden  which  the  helpless 
pines  still  bore  in  tufts  on  each  individual 
tassel.  As  we  climbed  the  hill,  we  ventured 
down  the  soft  cushioned  bank  to  the  rift  made 
by  the  brook,  and  we  heard  it  tinkle  con- 
tentedly beneath  its  snow-weighted  roof. 
Did  you  ever  break  the  ice  on  a  still  pool,  and 
see  the  strange  figures  that  decorate  the  ceil- 
ing of  the  brook's  temple  f  As  a  child,  I  be- 
lieved that  these  frescoes  were  wrought  by 
naiads,  but  now  I  know  better,  and  I  said  as 
we  listened : 

"The  reason  why  the  brook  is  so  happy  is 
that  it  sings  the  song  of  joyful  achievement 
148 


CHRISTMAS 

while  it  works."  We  noted  that  a  vireo's 
nest  neatly  hung  in  a  beech  sapling  was  the 
base  of  a  column  of  snow,  and  Tom  said  : 

"That  is  a  cold  burden  for  a  nest  once  kept  Tlie  winter 
warm  by  a  mother's  breast."  nest 

"It  is  soft  and  white  and  not  too  heavy  j 
better  be  that  way  than  to  be  empty,"  I 
answered. 

"What  do  you  know  about  it,"  he  asked 
rather  sternly. 

"Nothing,  I  was  only  making  entertaining 
conversation." 

"Marian  Lee,  you  are  sometimes  most  con- 
foundedly flippant,  do  you  realize  it?  " 

"Let 's  forget  we  are  grown  up,  and  have 
fun  ;  let  's  hold  hands  and  run  down  hill !  " 
pleaded  I. 

"Let's,"  he  shouted,  and  suiting  the  action 
to  the  word,  down  we  came  through  the  soft 
snow  and  involuntarily  sat  in  the  great  drift 
at  the  bottom,  breathless  and  laughing 
When  we  came  to  the  main  road  we  brushed 
each  other  off  so  as  to  look  as  decorous  as 
possible  when  we  returned.  As  Tom  left  me 
he  said  with  his  most  winning  smile : 
149 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"Nice  little  girl,  will  you  go  sleigh-riding 
A  nice  time  with  me  pretty  soon?  " 

"Nice  old  boy,  I  will." 

I  feel  rather  hazy  about  your  knowledge  of 
snowj  do  they  have  beautiful,  cozy  snow- 
storms in  Japan?  If  so,  there  is  no  need  to 
tell  you  that  they  are  the  most  wonderful 
things  that  ever  happened. 

JANUARY  IST  :— On  this  day  I  always  square 
The  Fates  accounts  with  the  Fates,  those  "subtle  girls" 

are  "subtle  ^  Henley  calls  them>    I  WOnder  which  of  the 
girls" 

three  is  the  most  difficult  to  deal  with !  I 

rather  like  Clotho,  with  her  spinning,  even  if 
she  does  give  me  a  tangled  skein  ;  and  I  have 
no  quarrel  with  Lachesis,  though  she  is  a 
roue,  a  gambler  and  a  cheat,  tossing  loaded 
dice  to  cast  the  lots  of  men.  But  Atropos, 
the  Inevitable,  is  the  one  against  whom  I 
rebel ;  she  is  always  sitting  there  with  her 
shears  ready  to  snip  the  threads  just  as  they 
become  most  interesting.  The  other  Fates 
are  the  givers  of  gifts,  even  though  the  same 
be  of  doubtful  value  ;  but  dreary  old  Atropos 
takes  away ;  she  is  the  end— the  blank,  dead 
end  of  things. 

Well,  I  fear  it  is  a  fact  that  during  the  past 
150 


CHEISTMAS 

twelve  months  I  have  learned  some  brand- 
new  and  quite  undesirable  facts  about  my-  obliged  to 
self,  and  if  you  do  not  know  what  they  are  take  tlie  cue 
I  shall  not  tell  you.  It  has  always  been  my 
faulty  way  to  "make  believe"  that  I  am 
whatever  it  suits  circumstances  to  make  me. 
The  moment  that  some  chance  happening 
gives  me  the  cue,  I  dash  madly  on  to  the 
stage,  and  seem  to  have  no  choice,  but  must 
play  the  part  allotted  to  me  whether  it  is 
really  mine  or  not. 

Too  often  am  I  swept  on  and  on  without 
volition,  a  leaf  on  the  stream  of  circumstance.   The 

But  I  accept  the  fact  with  less  regret  than  safeguard  of 

indifference 

formerly.  Maybe  it  is  because  I  have  be- 
come hardened  by  witnessing  the  performance 
so  often ;  and  maybe  it  is  because  of  an  in- 
difference which  may  be  the  precursor  of 
reformation.  If  one  looks  with  apathy  upon 
the  result  of  an  action,  one  may  hope  to  look 
with  apathy  upon  the  reason  for  the  action. 
Only  the  most  beautiful  road  tempts  the  feet 
to  wander  into  by-ways  leading  over  green 
meadows  and  hills.  But  when  in  the  desert, 
there  is  no  incentive  to  go  out  of  the  straight 
and  narrow  trail. 

151 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MA  BELLE,  HILDA  AND  TOM  COME  TO  DINE, 
AND  THEODORE  MORRIS  MAKES  A  MORNING 
CALL 

DECEMBER  29TH  :— The  Mother  Beautiful 
„.„„  .....  and  Tom  and  Hilda  were  here  to  dinner 

pursuit  of  j-kig  evenjng.     Ma  Belle  seems    tired :    any 
happiness 
guaranteed  shadow  on  her  face  troubles  me,  for  I  do  not 

know  what  I  should  do  if  I  did  not  have  her. 
She  was  as  delightful  as  ever  in  her  talk  ;  when 
we  wished  her  a  happy  new  year,  she  said  : 

"The  constitution  of  the  United  States  does 
not  guarantee  us  the  right  of  happiness,  but 
the  right  to  the  pursuit  of  happiness  instead, 
and  I  am  still  in  keen  pursuit,  thank  you." 

"  Were  Washington  and  Jefferson  then 
subtle  jokers,  and  did  they  know  that  the 
pursuit  is  far  more  interesting  than  the  ful- 
filment? "  asked  father. 

"You  bet,  I  am  going  on  the  warpath  for 
152 


A  DINNER  PARTY  AND  A  CALLER 

it  this  year  and  I  '11  snatch  a  whole  bunch,  see 
if  I  don't,"  declared  Joe,  in  college  vernac- 
ular. 

"Don't  aim  too  high,"  cautioned  Tom. 

"  Each  one  starts  out  believing  that  he  is 
on  his  own  private  trail  for  happiness,  but  he  We  all  belong 

belongs  to  the  procession  just   the   same."     to  the 

procession 
added  father. 

"Yes,"  agreed  Ma  Belle,  "can  and  must  are 
high  fences,  and  the  whole  herd  is  driven 
between  them ;  if  an  individual  thinks  he  is 
an  exception  and  tries  to  force  his  way 
through  a  broken  panel  anywhere,  he  is  a  pig 
and  delays  the  progress  of  the  herd  and  has 
to  amble  on  eventually,  all  the  more  tired 
because  of  his  break  for  freedom." 

"True,"  mused  father,  "the  individual 
seems  of  little  consequence  in  the  great  Firing  the 

scheme,  except  perhaps  as  a  cog  in  the  wheel  enffine  °f 

progress 
of  development ;  or,  to  change  the  metaphor, 

he  may  be  a  bit  of  fuel  thrust  into  the  fire- 
box of  the  engine  of  progress." 

"Optimist ! "  ejaculated  Ma  Belle,  and  we  all 
laughed.     "Anyway,"  said  father,  turning  to 
Joe,  "the  individual  who  thinks  his  happiness 
153 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

is  the  end  and  aim  of  creation  is  likely  to  be 
surprised  soon  or  late." 

"I  'm  that  individual  all  right,  Pater,  let 
the  surprise  come.  Hoop-la  !"  replied  Joe. 

"Ma  Belle,  what  makes  you  look  so  tired 
to-night  V  I  asked  solicitously. 

"I  am  tired ;  I  spent  the  morning  address- 

The  hidden  ing  the  envelopes  for  the  invitations  to  my 

wheels  of  reception<     AH   the  tjme   i  was  doing    it   I 

social 
functions  thought,   'such  a  waste   of    good,    precious 

stamps' ;  for  when  they  who  receive  these  in- 
vitations which  cost  me  mental  anguish,  sticky 
fingers  and  four  cents  each,  read  them  they 
will  say  '  Humph  ! ?  It  is  the  way  of  the  world 
social :  one  half  spends  its  time,  strength  and 
money  doing  things  for  the  other  half  which 
make  it  exclaim  '  Humph ! '  and  then  the 
other  half  feels  it  necessary  to  return  the  com- 
plimentary with  like  results." 

"That  may  be  true  of  other  people's  recep- 
tions, but  not  of  yours,  Mrs.  Lee,"  declared 
Hilda. 

"The  special  use  of  such  functions  is  a  sub- 
ject for  prayerful  reflection,"  rejoined  Ma 
Belle  j  "usually,  the  giving  or  attending  them 
154 


A  DINNER  PARTY  AND  A  CALLER 

results  in  a  tedium  that  makes  us  sing  Te 
Deum  when  they  are  over.     I  never  give  a  Tedium  then 
reception  without  wishing  for  the  power  of     6  Deum 
the  lower  animals  to  reproduce  lost  parts,  so 
that  I  could  divide  myself  into  at  least  six 
sections,  and  let  each  one  develop  into  a  com- 
plete individual  j  then  there  might  be  enough 
of  me  to  meet  the  necessities  of  the  occasion." 

"There  could  never  be  too  many  of  you, 
Tante  Belle,"  said  Joe,  who  is  a  devoted 
knight  of  Ma  Belle's. 

"I  think  I  would  rather  there  were  only 
one  of  you,  Madam  Lee,"  avowed  Tom  with 
unction,  and  she  flushed  a  little  at  the  compli 
ment. 

"I  know  exactly  what  you  mean,  Mrs. 
Lee,"  said  Hilda,  "at  the  end  of  such  a  func- 
tion the  hostess  knows  just  how  an  orange 
ought  to  feel  when  it  is  separated  into  sec- 
tions—that is,  naturally  enough  divided,  but 
helplessly  scattered." 

"One  always  wonders  what  he  is  going  to 
talk  about  at  a  reception,"  sighed  father. 

"Conversation  substance,  like  manna,  seems  Manna  for 
to  come  by  miracle,"  answered  Hilda.  conversation 

155 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  And  occasionally  the  miracle  is  not  a 
miraculous  success,"  ventured  I. 

"  The  whole  social  outfit  is  a  regular  fencing 
match,"  declared  Joe,  and  I  knew  he  was 
thinking  of  Millie. 

"  In  that  case  it  is  a  pity  that  the  fencing 
rules  do  not  obtain  so  that  when  we  are  hit 
we  might  put  a  finger  on  the  spot  and  cry, 
Houche'  or  <pass6'  or  <trop  bas!"  added 
Tom  sympathetically. 

"  It  is  a  game  without  rules  and  without 
A  game  umpire,"  responded  Joe  feelingly,  and  Tom 
without  rules  continued: 

"  The  true  skill  of  the  game  lies  in  experi- 
encing and  ignoring." 

"  Surely,"  said  I,  "  it  is  far  easier  to  ignore 
than  to  raise  one's  voice  and  howl,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"    said    Tom,    "  and    it    sometimes 
requires  more  bravery  to  run  away  than  it 
does  to  stay  and  fight." 
Tiie  people       "People  with  a  sense  of  humor  have  no 

with  a  sense  Business  to  get  into  the  social  world,"  declared 
of  humor 

Ma  Belle. 

"  True,"  added  father,  "  the  people  without 
a  sense  of  humor  are  the  happiest  and  there- 
153 


A  DINNER  PARTY  AND  A  CALLER 

fore   better  fitted  for  association  with  their 
kind." 

"  The  compensation  of  those  who  have 
a  sense  of  humor  lies  in  a  special  devel- 
opment of  the  vertebral  column  which  enables 
them  to  bear  unhappiness  with  keener  zest 
than  the  matter-of-fact  experience  in  happi- 
ness," remarked  Hilda,  and  I  said  with  some 
severity : 

"  Hilda,  I  am  sure  you  have  cultivated  your 
humorous  vertebrae  to  that  extent  that  they 
wag  you." 

"  There  be  those  whom  I  will  refrain  from 
mentioning  who  have  beautiful,  long,  graceful  A  vertebral 
Watteau  plaits  instead  of  backbones,"   she   Watteau  plait 
replied,  and  I  had  to  join  the  laugh. 

"  My  poor  amiability  is  a  target  for  all  my 
friends  to  try  their  skill  upon,"  I  exclaimed 
ruefully. 

"  Little  skill  is  required,  dear,"  said  Hilda 
as  she  put  a  loving  arm  around  my  waist, 
"your  amiability  envelopes  us  all  like  a 
mantle  of  charity,  and  we  love  to  cuddle 
down  in  it  even  if  we  do  abuse  it." 

"  Daughter,  I  could  not  manage  my  recep- 
157 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

tion  at  all  without  you  there  to  pour  oil  on  the 

An  cosy  creaking  axles,"  and  Ma  Belle  looked  affec- 

person  tjonately  at  me  as  she  said  it.  "On  judgment 

day  you  will  be  able  to  say,  ( O  Judge,  I  have 

been  mighty  easy  for  your  earthly  creatures 

to  get  along  with,  and  there  must  be  place  in 

the  heavenly  machinery  for  lubricator  as  well 

as  for  cranks.' " 

"  Mamie  is  n't  so  dead  easy  as  you  all  seem 
Flinty  inside  to  think,"  declared  Joe  feelingly,  "  you  would 
sing  a  different  tune  if  she  had  brought 
you-all  up.  She  is  flinty  inside  though  she 
appears  so  soft  and  cushiony,  I  can  tell  you 
that  right  now."  Father  looked  at  Joe  with 
a  twinkle  of  mischief  in  his  eye,  and  said : 

"  Did  I  not  hear  you  say  the  other  day,  my 
son,  in  the  presence  of  a  certain  young  person, 
that  when  you  married  you  were  going  to 
marry  a  woman  who  rested  you.  You  had 
best  be  careful,  now  that  you  know  pillows 
may  be  filled  with  other  things  than  down." 

"  By  jingo  !  I  would  rather  marry  a  buzz- 
Jofg  choice  saw  than  a  feather  bed  any  day,"  was  Joe's 
rather  belligerent  answer ;  then  feeling  that 
158 


A  DINNER  PAKTY  AND  A  CALLER 

he  had  perhaps  cast  some  reflections  upon 
me,  he  added, 

"Mamie,  you  are  an  angel,  even  if  you  are 
not  a  down-pillow,  and  an  angel  is  a  darn  fine 
person  to  have  around." 

"  If  all  of  you  do  not  stop  teasing  me,  I  will 
take  my  dolls  and  leave,"  I  complained. 

"  Dont ! "  pleaded  Tom,  "  Stay,  and  I  will 
be  an  angel  too,  so  you  wont  be  so  lonesome." 

Now,  Image  with  long  sagacious  ears,  I  must 
confess  to  you  that  I  was  teased  by  this  con-  Naive  human 
versation.  I  know  I  enjoy  being  praised,  yet  wa*ttr<? 
praise  slides  off  me  like  water  from  the  back 
of  the  traditional  duck.  My  faults  and  my 
virtues  are  dovetailed  together  so  perfectly 
that  a  coat  of  blame  or  praise  spread  upon 
me  is  likely  to  be  applied  to  the  wrong  spot 
and  no  one  realizes  the  fact  as  keenly  as  I  do. 
But  this  is  also  true— the  less  I  believe  in 
myself,  the  more  I  long  to  have  others  believe 
in  me.  Human  nature  is  so  naive !  Con- 
sciousness of  failure  does  not  prevent  us  from 
feeling  that  we  ought  to  have  all  the  per- 
quisites of  success.  Tell  me,  is  it  a  subject 
159 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

for  laughter  or  tears,  this  unreasonable 
human  nature  which  is  so  absurd  ?  But  how 
can  you  know,  since  you  are  merely  a  god  ! 

JANUARY  3RD  :— Good  evening,  Wooden  Ser- 

The  dynamics  enity,   how  are  you  to-night  ?     As  for  me, 
of  crossness   my   day  began  stupid  but  j   redeemed    it  to 

wickedness.  It  was  a  day  of  cross-purposes 
and  has  a  cross  lady  at  the  end  of  it.  Cross- 
ness is  a  queer  emotion  ;  it  is  like  a  real  force 
within  one  which  explodes  j  it  is  as  if  one's 
nerves  were  all  tied  in  hard  knots  and  then 
suddenly  loosed.  Queer  creatures,  we  mortals, 
— each  one  of  us  just  a  colony  of  nerves  which 
may  go  on  a  strike  at  any  moment.  Believe 
me,  there  are  some  advantages  in  being  com- 
posed of  placid  teak- wood. 

Theodore  Morris  arrived  in  town  at  eight 
A  gift  of  the  this  morning  and  at  ten  he  was  calling  on 
gods  me.  Well  is  he  named  Theodore,  for  he  is 
surely  a  gift  of  the  gods  j  it  is  the  only  pos- 
sible way  to  explain  him. 

He  came  forward  to  meet  me  as  I  entered 
the  room,  took  both  my  hands  and  my  only 
safety  lay  in  looking  distinctly  non-kissable. 
160 


A  DINNER  PARTY  AND  A  CALLER 

He  certainly  does  feel  and  reflect  my  moods 
with  startling  readiness.  But  some  day  his 
strong  individuality  will  rise  up  and  overflow 
my  moods  as  a  river  its  banks  ;  I  know  it !  He 
drew  up  two  easy  chairs  in  front  of  the  fire  j 
seating  me  in  one,  he  stretched  out  luxuriously 
in  the  other. 

"  My  lady,  you  are  looking  fine  this  morn- 
ing j  you  are  like  an  oriental  princess  in  that 
crimson  embroidered  creation  you  are  wear- 
ing." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  an  oriental  princess 
who  had  gray  locks  and  was  forty  years  old?  " 
I  asked  rather  acidly. 

"  Oh,  there  are  certain  advantages  pos- 
sessed by  oriental  princesses  of  which  we  may 
not  have  heard,"  he  answered  smoothly. 
I  was  silent  and  looked  steadily  into  the 
fire  and  he  asked : 

"  Of  what  are  you  thinking  ?  " 

"  I  never  think  any  more  j  the  longer  one 
lives  the  thicker  come  the  brickbats  of  ex-    why  we  may 
perience  about  one's  ears  and  one  is  obliged  not  think 
to  keep  dodging  and  stop  thinking." 

"  My  lady  is  a  pessimist  this  morning." 
161 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  Some  one  says  that  a  pessimist  is  one  who 
has  seen  an  optimist,"  returned  I  pointedly. 
"  Look  at  me  well,  then,  for  I  am  he  ;  I  am 
happy  and  as  serene  as  a  June  sky." 
"  How  have  you  achieved  it  ?  " 
"  Oh,  it  is  a  plan.    I  go  about  the  world 
like  a  waiter  in  a  dining-car  with  my  feet 
wide  apart  to   guard    against  an  upset.    I 
make  my  base  unnaturally  broad  so  as   to 
stand  the  jar  and  not  lose  my  balance  nor  spill 
over,  whatever  happens." 

"  So  that  is  your  philosophy  of  life  ! " 

"  No,  I  have  n't  any.     A  philosophy  of  life 

A  philosophy  is  like  a  bicycle  ;  it  goes  well  on  the  level  and 
of  life  like  a   down  hm  and  oyer          d  roads    but  with  the 
Ucycle 

up-hill  and  the  mud,  one  must  needs  get  off 

and  push.  However,  one  does  not  need  a 
philosophy  in  heaven,  where  I  am  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  I  see  no  golden  streets,  and  hear  no  harp- 
strings  vibrating,"  I  returned  perversely. 

"  Why  should  the  two  senses  of  sight  and 
hearing  persist  in  the  next  world,  and  the 
senses  of  touch,  taste  and  smell  be  lost  ?  " 

"  Because  the  two  former  take  us  outside 
162 


A  DINNER  PAETY  AND  A  CALLER 

of  ourselves  and  the  latter  keep  us  within 
ourselves." 

"  Happy  thought,  dear  lady,  but  why  not 
picture  heaven  as  a  place  of  soft  fabrics,   The  senses 

velvety  and  satiny  textures  and  downy  cush-  needed  in 

heaven 
ions;  and  also  a  place  of  delectable  viands 

and  above  all,  of  enrapturing  odors,  helio- 
trope, violet  and  rose.  Why,  the  fragrance 
of  English  violets  takes  me  out  of  myself  as 
much  as  does  a  Beethoven  sonata;  and  to 
touch  your  garment  is  heaven  for  me,"  he 
laid  his  finger  on  my  sleeve  ;  and  I  was  silent, 
pondering  on  this  utterly  inexplicable  power 
of  another  personality  to  touch  and  awaken 
unsuspected  sides  of  one's  nature. 

"  It  is  all  a  dream,"    I  answered. 

Ji  I  have  worked  hard  for  this  wide-awake 
world,  and  it  owes  me  at  least  a  dream,"  he   only  the 
said  softly  as  his  hand  clasped  mine.     "  I  re- 
member  that  some  one  has  said  that  only  the 
tangible  is  frangible,  the  impalpable  abides." 

We    heard    Hilda's    voice     outside;    his 

hand  slid  off  mine  like  smoke,  and  he  arose 

alert  and  courtly  to  greet  her.     Though  I 

was  in  a  state  of  inner  embarrassment  I  knew 

163 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A   HEATHEN  IDOL 

I  was  calm  in  appearance,  and  greeted  her 
placidly.  It  is  my  way  to  be  calm  on  the  crust 
when  I  am  seething  beneath. 

"Why  are  you  two  cooped  up  here  this 
morning,  when  the  outside  world  is  so 
glorious!"  she  asked  breezily. 

"We  are  loafing.  What  have  you  been 
doing  these  two  days  !  "  I  asked. 

*Me !  I  have  been  busy  getting  back  into 
things  again  and  I  have  so  many  interests 
that  I  feel  like  this  nice  scorpion  on  your 
oriental  rug,  as  if  I  had  a  claw  hooked  on 
each  of  the  eight  corners  of  the  universe." 

"Her  universe  is  an  octagon,"  murmured 

An  octagonal  Mr.  Morris,  "and  I  could  have  sworn  that  it 
universe   was  square.» 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Hilda,  "four  sides 
more  than  you  divined.  I  am  not  surprised  ! 
Well,  yesterday  I  went  to  church  to  see 
Jeannie  Harvey  married." 

"A  cheerful  pastime  j  what  did  you  think 
about  during  the  ceremony  ?  "  I  asked. 
The  new       "I  meditated  on  the  futility  of  vows,  and 
marriage  concluded  I  should  make  the  ritual  say  <I 
take  thee,  Jeannie,  to  be  my  wedded  wife  and 
164 


A  DINNER  PARTY  AND  A  CALIER 

to  get  along  with  as  best  I  can  as  long  as  I 
can.'" 

"My  goodness  !  "  I  ejaculated. 

"Do  not  be  profane,"  warned  Hilda. 

"There  is  so  little  of  it  that  the  oath  is  a 
mild  one,"  I  explained. 

"Often  there  is  enough  of  it  to  swear  at," 
she  answered  pointedly. 

"Please  let  my  goodness  rest  and  tell  us 
what  else  you  have  been  doing." 

"I  am  sure  you  have  heard  me  say  that  I 
wished  I  were  a  Digger  squaw,  when  the 
burden  of  being  respectable  became  too 
onerous.  Last  night  I  was  not  respectable 
without  the  trouble  of  transmigrating,  for  I 
went  to  hear  the  'Lord  Trillions/  " 

"Rather  light  opera,"  laughed  Mr.  Morris. 

"Light-headed  but  not  light-hearted  j  the 
music  worthless,  the  dancing  infamous,  and  Savagery 

the  humor,  horse-play.  No  real  Digger  squaw  Pr6/cra6fe 

decadence 
could  have  been  induced  to  sit  through  it.     I 

am  more  sure  than  ever  that  when  I  take  my 
final  leave  of  respectability,  I  shall  take  to 
the  woods  and  savagery  rather  than  to  the 
footlights  and  decadence." 
165 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"You  look  fresh  and  happy  this  morning," 
suggested  Mr.  Morris  admiringly. 

"That  is  because  Joe  chanced  to  overtake 
Joe  in  the  me  this  morning  when  I  was  carrying  a  bas- 

rdle  of  j,ej.  of  eatables  to  poor  Bridget   Carnahan. 
Columbus 

Joe  is  always  an  inspiration  to  me ;  no  one 

encourages  me  in  the  path  of  virtue  as  he  does. 
"Whenever  he  discovers  me  doing  anything 
commendable,  he  is  so  pleased  and  enthusiastic 
that  I  feel  as  abashed  as  if  I  had  never  done 
a  good  deed  before.  Most  of  my  friends  take 
it  for  granted  that  I  am  likely  to  display  cer- 
tain virtues,  but  he,  never !  He  discovers 
them  anew  every  time  ;  Joe  is  the  Columbus 
of  my  virtues." 

"I  thought  I  was  the  Columbus  of  your 
virtues,  because  I  make  them  stand  on  end 
by  making  them  boil,"  said  I. 

Sterilized       "Boiling  virtues  must  sterilize  them,"  re- 
virtues  marke(i  Mr.  Morris  thoughtfully. 

"Go  a  step  farther  and  make  them  anti- 
septic. What  a  safe  and  attractive  place  this 
world  would  be  if  it  were  the  abode  of  anti- 
septic virtues,"  quoth  Hilda. 

"Virtue  is  mostly  inertia,"  said  Mr.  Morris. 
166 


A  DINNER  PARTY  AND  A  CALLER 

"So  is  vice,"  I  added. 

"Virtue  is  commendable  when  it  is  worn 
inside,  like  the  pearl  in  the  oyster,  and  not 
on  the  outside  like  the  quills  on  the  fretful 
porcupine,"  adjured  Hilda. 

"Many  a  time  have  I  been  impaled  there- 
on," I  murmured. 

"It was  your  just  deserts;  you  are  so  soft 
that  impalement  is  inevitable,"  said  Hilda 
looking  at  me  affectionately. 

"Miss  Vincent,  when  shall   we  give  Mrs. 
Lee  another  concert?  I  have  not  touched  my  His  hear  fa 
heart's  desire  for  three  weeks,  and  I  long  to  desire 
have  it  in  my  hands  again." 

"How  fortunate  to  be  able  to  buy  one's 
heart's  desire  at  any  price  ! "  exclaimed  Hilda. 

"Mine  cost  me  more  than  I  was  willing  to 
pay,  for  it  belonged  to  my  old  teacher,  Herr 
Stainer,  and  I  purchased  it  from  his  heirs. 
Half  the  happiness  of  owning  it  was  lost  be- 
cause he  was  gone." 

"The  world  drives  hard  bargains,"  said 
Hilda  with  unexpected  sympathy. 

"  Strange,  is  it  not,"  said  I,  "  how  happiness   Tlie  relativity 
is  meted  out  to  us  by  making  us  choose  be-  °fhaPPiness 
167 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

tween  the  greater  and  lesser  hurts.  Joy  never 
seems  to  be  perfect ;  it  is  joy  simply  by  con- 
trast." 

"  I  refuse  to  listen  to  such  cynical  remarks," 
said  the  gentleman,  rising  to  go,  "  I  fear  if  I 
stay  I  shall  become  inoculated,"  and  he  bade 
us  a  cheerful  farewell.  But  was  n't  it  a  queer 
conversation? 


168 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  SOCIAL  FUNCTION  WHICH  WAS  TRULY  SOCIAL 

JANUARY  10TH : — It  is  1  o'clock  A.M.  and 
the  bell  in  the  tower  is  telling  it  abroad  Ma  Belle's 
over  the  starlit  valley.  There  are  receptions  recePtwn 
and  receptions,  oh,  hand-carved  god  !  Ma  Belle's 
belong  to  the  latter  class  and  all  others  to 
the  former.  Ma  Belle  knows  how  to  get  inter- 
esting people  ont  and  how  to  make  uninterest- 
ing people  interesting.  Although  it  is  so  late, 
I  am  too  excited  to  sleep.  My  thoughts  and 
feelings  seem  to  be  whirling  around  many 
storm  centers  like  a  compound  cyclone ;  so  I 
think  I  will  tell  you  all  about  Ma  Belle's  re- 
ception, and  perhaps  that  will  make  me 
sleepy,  especially  if  you  look  weary  and  bored. 
You  should  have  seen  Ma  Belle  to-night 
and  her  house  too,  for  then  you  could  better  Tfie  manage- 

understand  what  I  have  to  tell  you  about  this  ment  °f 

trains 
wonderful  party.     Ma  Belle  was  clad  in  a 

169 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

creamy  velvet  robe  that  trailed  after  her  tall 
The  ideal  and  almost  girlishly  slender  form  as  if  it  loved 
hostess  t(X  gome  W0men  just  haul  their  trains  after 
them  by  brute  force  ;  while  others  wear  trains 
which  flow  after  them  with  the  sinuous  grace- 
fulness of  a  stream  gladly  flowing  seaward.  Ma 
Belle  wears  the  latter  kind  always.  To-night 
the  rich  old  lace  on  her  corsage  was  the  back- 
ground for  one  large,  perfect,  pale-pink  rose. 
Her  beautiful  white  hair  was  crowned  with  a 
wide  comb  of  delicately  wrought  silver.  Her 
cheeks  were  flushed  and  her  dark  eyes  ablaze 
with  excitement.  Oh  yes,  Ma  Belle  has  some 
wrinkles  in  her  face,  since  you  are  so  impolite 
as  to  ask  ;  but  they  are  of  the  right  sort— sim- 
ply the  delicate  outlines  of  character.  If  she 
had  one  wrinkle  less,  she  would  be  so  much 
the  less  beautiful.  No  other  woman  present 
could  compare  with  her  in  attractiveness. 
When  she  greeted  people,  she  said  some  little 
word  that  made  each  guest  feel  received.  Ma 
Belle  is  like  a  diamond,  she  has  a  different 
facet  to  sparkle  under  the  ray  of  every  indi- 
vidual she  meets. 

Ma  Belle's  is  the  most  interesting  house  that 
170 


A  TRULY  SOCIAL  FUNCTION 

I  was  ever  in.  It  is  a  long,  low  house  on  a 
hill,  and  consists  of  a  series  of  large,  comfort-  TJw  ideal 
able,  homey  rooms.  There  is  no  library  in  1louse 
it,  but  there  are  fire-places  with  great  com- 
fortable chairs  in  front  of  them ;  and  books 
are  scattered  over  the  house,  almost  every 
corner  affording  place  for  a  bookshelf  cun- 
ningly contrived  to  entice  the  book  lover. 
Ma  Belle  says  she  would  not  dream  of  segre- 
gating her  books  in  one  room  any  more  than 
she  would  her  friends.  She  says  that  books 
do  not  like  to  have  other  incompatible  books  Incompatible 
in  their  neighborhood,  and  that  she  can  volumes 
imagine  the  suffering  that  would  result  from 
placing  Kipling  by  the  side  of  Matthew 
Arnold,  or  Stevenson  by  Jane  Austen  j  she 
says  that  most  libraries  impress  her  with  an 
atmosphere  of  mute  endurance.  Thus  it  hap- 
pens that  in  Ma  Belle's  home  there  are  con- 
genial books  and  congenial  pictures,  and  here 
and  there  a  piece  of  statuary,  like  the  "  Nar- 
cissus "  and  the  "Winged  Victory."  It  is  quite 
impossible  for  any  one  to  be  stiff  and  formal 
in  such  a  sympathetic  atmosphere,  and  that 
is  the  reason,  I  think,  why  almost  every  one 
171 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

I  talked  with,  to-night  said  real,  and  interest- 
An  ing  things  to  me.     No  matter  what  sort  of 

undesirable  peopie  Ma  Belle  brings  together,  they  never 
combination 

form  that  impossible   combination  which  is 

like  soup  seasoned  with  tea,  and  which  is  too 
often  encountered  on  the  social  menu. 

My  first  experience  this  evening  was  a  walk 

An  through  the  conservatory  with  Professor  May- 

impersonal  ^^  wllo  is  cuitured  and  thoughtful  and  has 


soulful  eyes,  and  yet  is  impersonal  to  a  degree 
that  would  make  a  disembodied  ghost  envious. 
As  I  grow  older,  I  have  a  higher  appreciation 
of  impersonal  attitudes  and  opinions.  I  am 
getting  so  that  I  can  converse  vivaciously  with 
an  idea  whether  it  be  male,  female,  or  neuter, 
or  whether  it  be  on  two  legs  or  six.  He  was 
saying  : 

"  As  the  years  go  by  we  realize  that  life  is 
so  crowded  that  it  is  impossible  to  attain 
much  development  j  most  of  our  powers  lie 
dormant  because  we  do  not  have  time  to  do 
ourselves  justice.  We  are  like  <  laboring7 
students,  we  have  to  spend  so  much  time  earn- 
ing the  bread  of  life  that  we  do  not  have 
172 


A  TRULY  SOCIAL  FUNCTION 

time  to  study  our  lessons  and  make  the  bril- 
liant showing  we  ought." 

"Let  us  hope  that  the  Recording  Angel  has 
a  different  marking  system  than  we  have,"  I  A  superior 

ventured  comfortingly  ;  "we  focus  on  the  ex-  *ystem  °f 

marking 
ceptional ;  if  we  do  our  lessons  very  well  or 

very  badly,  we  think  about  these  occasions 
with  pride  or  shame  ;  but  the  greatest  Teacher 
must  take  into  account  the  average  work,  day 
by  day,  and  let  latent  possibilities  count  for 
something.  Any  one  can  easily  see  that  no 
life  may  be  measured  by  its  failures  and  still 
have  excuse  for  existence.  Failure  is  nega-  Failure  is 
tive  and  we  should  be  judged  by  our  positive 
achievements.' J 

"I  grant  you  that,  but  a  talent  in  a  napkin 
is  useless  no  matter  who  knows  that  it  is 
there.  My  ideal  of  heaven  is  a  place  where 
there  is  time  and  incentive  for  us  each  to  grow 
to  full  stature  in  every  possibility.  I  always 
think  of  these  things  when  I  come  to  Madam 
Lee's,  because  it  seems  to  me  that  she  has 
achieved  on  earth  all  that  I  hope  to  in 
heaven." 

173 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

He  was  right.     That  defines  Ma  Belle  per- 
fectly—she is  the  woman  who  has  achieved. 

My  next  encounter  was  with  Marvin  Gray, 
Occidental  a  keen,  placid  and  most  handsome  Quaker,  a 
placidity  friend  of  Ma  Belle  from  childhood.     You  do 
not  know  what  I  mean  by  Quaker  do  you? 
"Well,  a  Quaker  is  the  embodiment  of  occi- 
dental instead  of  oriental  placidity— a  person 
who  reckons  with  the  fates  and  refuses  to  be 
disturbed  by  the  results.     Not  a  stoic,  nay, 
nay  !     A  stoic  is  one  who  says  when  his  heart 
aches,  "Let  it  ache  !  "  and  endures.   A  Quaker 
says,  "I  will  regard  only  the  spirit ;  I  will 
flow  around  the  obstacles  in  my  path  like 
water,  always  obeying  the  inner,  divine  man- 
date, and  not  waste  my  strength  in  useless 
rebellion,  but  use  all  experience  for  growth  in 
Marvin  Gray,  grace."     I  have  always  enjoyed  Marvin  Gray 
Quaker  because  his  presence  enfolds  me  like  a  mantle 
of  rest;   and  he  talks  to  me  in  the  sweet 
"plain"  language  which  my  mother  used.     I 
greeted  him  with : 

"I  have  not  seen  thee  until  now  to  wish  thee 
a  happy  new  year ;    may  the  coming  year 
bring  thee  fulfilment  of  thy  dearest  wish," 
174 


A  TKTILY  SOCIAL  FUNCTION 

"Thee  should  have  made  certain  about  the 
nature  of  the  wish  before  thee  said  that,"  he  Fulfilment 

returned  in  a  sweet  and  resonant  voice.     "I  death  to 

aspiration 

do  not  believe  it  would  be  good  for  any  one 
to  get  his  dearest  wish.  I  shall  wish  more 
wisely  for  thee :  May  thy  dearest  wish  ever 
keep  thy  heart  warm  and  hopeful  by  never 
being  fulfilled.  Fulfilment  is  death  to  a 
wish,  and  I  would  keep  thy  dearest  wish  in 
the  blossom  stage,  a  source  of  interest  and  in- 
spiration for  a  long  time  before  it  reaches  fru- 
ition." 

"I  am  afraid  thee  thinks  that  small  crops 
are  all  I  deserve  ;  too  many  of  my  wishes  are 
all  petals  and  no  fruit,"  I  answered  ruefully. 

"Thee  is  not  yet  old  enough  to  appreciate 
the  value  of  wishes  unfulfilled,"  said  he,  a  The  secret  of 

sweet  smile  breaking  the  firm  contour  of  his  a 

life 

lips.  "It  is  only  while  we  are  longing  for 
what  may  not  be  that  we  can  live  close  to 
humanity  and  still  keep  our  sympathies  fresh 
for  our  fellow  men." 

I  looked  up  into  the  depths  of  his  calm 
gray  eyes  and  wondered  if  that  had  been  the 
secret  of  his  own  noble  life  of  helpfulness. 
175 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

We  were  interrupted  and  I  passed  on  conscious 
of  an  inner  glow,  as  if  his  sunshine  had  ripened 
the  side  of  me  that  was  turned  toward  him. 

Next  there  fell  to  my  lot  a  callow  psycholo- 
The  murky  gist  who  was  not  a  very  promising  social  ob- 

depths  of  the  .    t     j         p^hed  to  the  straits  of  shocking 
thought  of  J 

ages  him  by  declaring  myself  an  apostle  of  medi- 
ocrity. He  evidently  considered  himself  so 
unusual  that  my  words  were  nothing  less  than 
heresy.  While  I  was  enjoying  his  discomfi- 
ture, Dr.  McGregor  joined  us,  and  my  com- 
panion turned  with  relief  and  evident  rever- 
ence to  the  head  of  his  department.  Dr. 
McGregor  is  really  a  great  manj  and  I  have 
always  thought  it  a  pity  that  he  should  be 
sailing  his  boat  on  philosophy's  stagnant  pool 
where  his  own  thinking  must  ever  be  mir- 
rored in  the  murky  depths  of  what  others 
have  thought.  For  he  is  a  man  to  be  out 
in  the  sea  of  positive  action,  buffeting  wind 
and  wave  and  all  there  is  for  a  strong  man  to 
buffet ;  but  now  his  buffeting  is  all  within 
himself,  and  his  delicately  lined  face  and  rest- 
less eyes  show  it." 

"I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  I  exclaimed, 
176 


A  TRULY  SOCIAL  FUNCTION 

"I  hope  you  will  help  me  to  convince   this 

young  man  of  the  true  worth  of  the  extra-   The  great 

ordinarily  ordinary  j  and  that  there  is  very  value  °f the 

little   use   for  the   exceptional   in  this   old 

world- cushion  ;  help  me  to  reveal  to  him  the 

great  value  of  mere  stuffing." 

"No  use !  Leave  him  to  find  the  value  of 
it  after  he  realizes  he  is  it,  as  all  the  rest  of 
us  have  done.  First  we  dream  we  are  the 
6  stuff/  and  finally  in  raw  humility  learn  to 
add  the  i  ing.'  Come  with  me,  I  want  to 
show  you  something."  As  we  passed  on  he 
continued,  "You  were  wasting  your  breath  ! 
And,  my  dear  girl,  you  ought  to  realize  that 
wisdom  born  of  experience  has  in  it  the  ring 
of  cynicism  when  it  is  repeated  for  the  edifi- 
cation of  the  innocent." 

"It  is  the  only  way  to  get  even  with  the 
teacher,"  said  I.  "He  irritated  me  ;  and  I  am 
not  a  'dear  girl,'  I  am  becoming  truly  aged, 
and  this  is  the  evidence  of  it :  Once  every 
human  being  was  an  object  of  breathless 
interest  to  me.  Now  I  call  some  stupid,  some 
tiresome  and  some  with  half-baked  ideals, 
irritating." 

177 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A   HEATHEN  IDOL 

"Wait  a  little,  if  he  willlive,  lie  must  learn. 
Ideals  a  Too  soon  his  ideals  will  cease  their  work  as 

goad  instead  inspiration   and   begin   that   of  tormentors. 

of  an 
inspiration  Instead  of  leading  him,  they  will  get  behind 

and   goad  him  upward,  making   progress  a 
pain  instead  of  a  joy." 

I  made  no  answer,  for  Dr.  McGregor  always 
Perfect  compliments  my   comprehension  of  him  by 

frankness  not  talking  to  me  ^^h  an  appalling  frankness. 
a  perfect 

success  And  after  such  a  bitter  speech  as  that  I  al- 
ways feel  that  I  would  not  be  so  frank  even 
to  the  Lord  in  my  prayers.  No  amount  of 
sympathy  or  imagination  can  change  ego  to  tu, 
and  therefore  absolute  frankness  is  never  a 
perfect  success. 

He  led  me  to  the  "  Indian  corner  "  of  Ma 
A  Buddha  Belle's  study.      There  is  a  luxurious   divan 

from  coverec[  with  silk,  embroidered  with  stripes  of 
Mandalay 

barbarous  yellow ;  in  front  of  it  stretches  a 

great  tiger  skin,  the  snarling  jaws  and  cruel 
eyes  of  the  mounted  head  rebelling  openly 
against  the  peaceful  service  of  a  foot-stool. 
At  the  end  of  the  divan  is  a  book-case  which 
I  carved  for  Ma  Belle  with  a  design  of  ele- 
phant heads.  On  its  shelves  are  various  his- 
178 


A  TRULY  SOCIAL  FUNCTION 

tories  of  India,  books  of  oriental  religions  and 
philosophy,  and  a  set  of  Kipling's  writings, 
while  on  the  top  is  a  reclining  Buddha  carved 
in  alabaster ;  above  him  is  suspended  a  pea- 
cock-feather punkah  with  its  myriad  eyes. 

"Help  me  to  admire  this  Buddha,"  he 
commanded. 

"He  came  from  Mandalay,"  I  explained. 

"Look  once  at  the  graceful  crudity  of  him 
and  his  gold  embroidered  toga  and  his  elab- 
orate cap  adorning  his  traditionally  swollen 
head." 

"Yes,  that  extra  head  of  Buddha's  looks 
like  a  coiffure  and  Madam  Lee  is  driven  al- 
most wild  by  people  who  ask  'Who  is  she?'" 

"She,   indeed  I "  he    ejaculated    in    scorn. 
"Never  she  even  though  he  has  round  cheeks  A  Nirvana 
and  leans  serenely  his  head  upon  his   hand.  smile 
That  inscrutable  smile  and  the   mysterious 
eyes  that   see  Mrvana  prove  him   Buddha. 
He  says  as  plainly  as  may  be, 1 1  see  all  things 
as   they  are;  and  you,  O  mortals,  know  no 
more  of  what  is  than  do  the  ants  in  yonder 
mound  know  of  the  movements  of  the  stars.7 " 

"He  is  made  of  alabaster  j  let  me  place  a 
179 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

light  behind  him  and  you  will  see  that  he  is 
translucent/'  exclaimed  I,  for  I  was  very 
proud  of  this  Buddha. 

The       "To  have  a  God  one  can  see  through,  even 
advantage  of  dimly,  must  be  a  comfort."  muttered  the  man 

translucent 

Dwmity  at  my  side. 

Ma  Belle  says  of  Dr.  McGregor  that  he 
thinks  too  much ;  that  he  is  like  a  horse  fallen 
in  the  harness— the  only  way  to  get  him  on 
his  feet  is  to  sit  on  his  head ;  that  if  he  would 
only  go  out  and  work  with  a  spade  and  pick- 
axe for  a  year  he  would  be  the  sweetest  and 
sanest  of  men. 

As  I  drifted  away  from  Dr.  McGregor  I 
ISxerescent  found  myself  consciously  veering  to  the  left 
erudition  kecause  I  saw  Professor  Plumb  advancing  at 
the  right.     Professor  Plumb  is  regarded  as  a 
very  learned  man,  but  his  learning  is  no  real 
part  of  himself— it  is  an  abnormal  growth ; 
and  although  I  am  somewhat  facile  in  per- 
forming social  feats,  I  never  did  feel  at  ease 
while  conversing  with  an  excrescence.     So  I 
steered     my     course    toward    a    big    man 
whose  massive  head,  crowned  with  touseled 
curls,  towered  above  the  assemblage.    He  is 
180 


A  TRULY  SOCIAL  FUNCTION 

Mr.  Walton  who  lives  on  a  great  farm  near 

our  town.     There  is  something  about  him  that  A  child  of 

is  vigorous  and  virile  and  makes  me  always 

conscious  that  he  is  a  man.     He  is  on  the 

most  intimate  terms  with  Mother  Nature,  so 

I  touched  his  arm  and  said : 

"  What  are  you  doing  in  the  madding 
crowd,  you  who  belong  out  among  the 
trees  ?  " 

"  Wishing  that  men  were  trees,"  was  the 
prompt  reply. 

"  And  women  ?  " 

"  Birds,"  he  returned  cheerfully. 

"  Ducks  or  geese  ?  "  I  queried. 

"  You  are  a  bad  lady,  and  if  you  are  not 
careful,  I  will  wish  you  into  a  blue  jay." 

"  Why  ?  "  I  remonstrated. 

"  Because  you  have  on  such  a  heavenly 
blue  gown  and  have  such  bad  manners." 

"  My  gown  is  n't  blue,  it  is  gray." 

"  It  is  just  the  bluish  shimmering  color  that 
is  on  the  blue  jay's  wing,"  he  declared 
positively. 

"  Egotist ! "  I  upbraided,  "to  set  yourself  up 
to  judge  of  my  manners." 
181 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  Egotism  is  all  right/7  he  argued,  "  when  it 

Obnoxious  looks  you  square  in  the  eye  and  refuses  to 

egotism  ]3U^ge>     j^  js  obnoxious  only  when  it  is  ram- 

pant self-conceit,  or  when  it  turns  tail  and 

sneaks   off.     The  very  worst  of  egotists  are 

those  whose  egotism  is  always  skulking  around 

afraid  of  being  kicked."     I  laughed  appreci- 

atively, and  said  : 

"Let's  not  talk  about  folk;  let's  talk 
about  trees  instead.  What  news  have  you  of 
them  t  " 

"  The  latest  news  I  got  from  the  mountain 

The  latest  yesterday  ;   there  I  observed  that  old  hem- 

newsofthe  }ocks    are    hopeless    pessimists    and   young 


trees 

hemlocks  are   cheerful  optimists.     I  saw  an 

old  one  and  a  young  one  standing  side  by 
side  ;  there  was  a  dreary  drooping  of  the 
boughs  of  the  old  one  as  if  in  memory  of 
years  of  snow  storms  ;  a  sullen  attitude  as  if 
the  corners  of  its  mouth  were  drawn  down  in 
stoical  disbelief  of  the  world.  While  the 
young  one  lifted  its  pretty  branches  eagerly 
upward,  as  if  longing  for  all  that  the  world 
can  give,  even  of  snow." 

"  I  told  you  to  talk  of  trees,  not  men." 
182 


A  TRULY  SOCIAL  FUNCTION 

"  You  are  impertinent,  Madam  Blue  Jay  5 
I  am  telling  the  truth  about  trees ;  because  it 
happens  to  be  a  human  truth  also  is  not  of  the 
slightest  moment  to  me." 

"  Come  over  to  the  music  room,  I  hear  some 
singing/7  I  urged. 

"  Not  I,"  he  declared  with  disdain. 

"  Music  hath  its  charms  to  soothe  the  savage 
breast,"  I  said  warningly. 

"  By  that  same  token  I  am  no  savage/'  he  Not  a  savage 
answered  with  a  laugh  as  he  passed  on. 

On    the  way   to   the  music  room  I   was 
stopped  by  Mr.  Day,  the  artist,  who  is  a  most  The  artistic 
fascinating  individual— sympathetic,  respon-  temPerament 
sive,  impulsive  and  capricious— a  child  in  all 
things  save  experience.     He  is  very  depen- 
dent on  his  strong,  serene  wife  ;  and  in  some 
way  the  golden  thread  of  her  love  has  guided 
her    through   the  maze   of  his  infinite  un- 
expectedness. 

"  How  is  the  last  picture  coming  on  f "  I 
asked. 

"  Nothing  doing ! "  he  answered  despon- 
dently. 

"  What  is  the  subject  ?  " 
183 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  Oh,  the  same  old  landscape  j  I  cannot  do 
anything  else.  Life  is  like  an  echo  cave  j  we 
stand  at  the  entrance  in  glad  youth  and 
shout  j  and  all  that  comes  after  is  simply 
reverberation,  echo  after  echo,  each  time 
fainter  until  the  end  is  reached." 

"  I  judge  from  that  remark  that  you  have 
reached  the  crisis,"  I  replied  understandingly. 

"  That  is  the  worst  of  it  j  I  am  getting  so 

Nonpareil  that  all  of  my  crises  are   spelled  in    plain 

cnses  nonpareii  instead  of  italics  or   pica ;  life  is 

scarcely  worth  the  trouble  when  one's  crises 

are  set  up  in  nonpareil." 

"  I  know  what  is  the  matter  with  you,"  I 
cried,  "  the  Lady  Day  has  gone  off  for  a 
visit." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  with  a  brilliant  smile, 
"  Annie  Laurie  is  away,  and  I  have  arrived 
at  that  stage  of  dumb  commonplaceness  that 
I  wrote  her  a  letter  this  morning  telling  her 
I  loved  her,  and  blotted  it,  by  Jove,  with  a 
blotter  advertising  royal  salad  dressing. 
Was  n't  that  the  limit  ?  " 

"  She  is  a  wonderful  woman,"  I  said  with 
enthusiasm. 

184 


A  TRULY  SOCIAL  FUNCTION 

"  No  words  to  describe  her  with  !     Among 
her  other  qualities  she  is  a  natural  gambler ;  A  charming 
the  source  and  advent  of  the  next  dollar  is  to  ffambler 
her  an  occasion  of  perennial  joy  and  interest. 
She  is  Helen  of  Troy  and  Pierpont  Morgan 
combined." 

"  With  such  a  wife  you  do  not  need  to 
make  any  resolutions  for  the  new  year/7  I 
said  with  an  attempt  at  gaiety.  But  he  re- 
fused to  be  cheered  and  went  on  : 

"  Is  n't  it  alarming  how  all  our  fine  plans 
and  promises  to  ourselves  slip  out  of  our 
grasp  like  a  handful  of  sand— the  harder  we 
hold  it  the  more  it  sifts  between  the  fingers ; 
the  more  tightly  we  grasp  the  more  we  feel  it 
ooze,  becoming  less  and  less." 

"  You  are  tired  to-night,"  I  said  sooth- 
ingly. 

"  That  's  so,"  he  acquiesced  cheerfully,  "  I 
am  tired  and  I  long  to  rest  for  months  with  TJie  futile  use 
nothing  to  do  except  to  trifle  in  pastels  with  oj?a  head 
the  colors  of  God's  world  and  listen  to  Cleo- 
patra sing.     If  I  could  do  that  I  should  soon 
get  my  head  back  on  my  shoulders.     Of  late 
I  have  been  doing  my  work  with  my  hands 
185 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

and  meanwhile  towing  niy  head  around  after 
me  at  the  end  of  a  string,  which  is  a  damn 
futile  way  to  use  a  head.  There,  don't  be 
shocked  !  I  have  to  swear  once  in  a  while  ; 
and  I  might  as  well  for  I  am  bound  eventu- 
ally to  suffer  the  tortures  of  the  wicked  and 
what  is  even  worse— the  oblivion  of  the 
unfit." 

"  Wait  until  the  Queen  of  Sheba  returns 
and  brings  you  back  your  pink  spectacles." 

"  Pink  spectacles  are  made  of  the  pigment 

The  of  red  blood  corpuscles,  did  you  know  that  ? 

composition  ^3  mv  re^  corpuscles  have  gone  on  a  strike 

spectacles  leaving  the  white  ones  in  possession,  and  that 

is  why  my  world  is  all  clay  color." 

"  Just  like  the  wabbly  clay  marbles  that  I 

used  to  pat  up,  and  which  always  cracked  when 

I  baked  them,"  I  murmured  sympathetically. 

"  By  jingo  !  you  are  almost  as  nice  as  the 

Compelling  Czarina,"  he  replied  gratefully.     Meanwhile 

music  we  ha^  been  pushing  music-ward,  and  arrived 

in  time  to  hear  the  last  line  of  a  song  and  the 

polite    patter  of   applause  which    followed. 

Then  I  heard  the  tentative  tuning  of  a  violin, 

and  when  we  gained  sight  of  the  piano  there 

186 


A  TRULY  SOCIAL  FUNCTION 

sat  Hilda  looking  as  pleasant  as  a  May  morn- 
ing, and  Theodore  Morris  pointing  at  some- 
thing on  the  sheet  of  music  before  her  with 
his  bow  5  in  a  moment  they  broke  with  a  fine 
swing  into  a  Schubert  sonata.  So  well  they 
played  that  silence  fell  on  the  chattering 
assembly,  a  tribute  not  always  paid  to  music 
at  our  receptions. 

"  Who  is  that  man?"  asked  Mr.  Day,  when 
the  last  strain  of  music  had  died  away,  leav- 
ing us  all  satisfied  and  silent  before  we 
remembered  to  spoil  it  all  by  applauding  in 
our  noisy  American  way. 

"  His  name  is  Morris,  and  he  is  a  special 
friend  of  Joe's,"  I  answered  nonchalantly. 

"  He  looks  too  sleek  to  make  such  music  j 
but,  by  Jove,  he  must  have  an  artistic  upset  Internally 
inside,  quite  out  of  sight,"  declared  he.     We  artistic 
were    approached  by   Mrs.   Durland,   petite 
and  vivacious.     Mr.  Walton  says   that  when 
she  cocks  her  little  head  on  one  side  and  looks 
at  him,  he  always  expects  her  to  say,  "  chick- 
a-dee-dee." 

"  Is  n't  that  man  a  miracle  !  "  she  asked, 
her  bright  eyes  dancing. 
187 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  Why  a  miracle  f  "  exclaimed  I. 

"  I  always  maintained  than  nothing  short 
of  a  miracle  would  make  Hilda  Vincent  play 
in  public,  so  it  is  evident  that  he  is  it." 

"  I  think  my  mamma-in-law  is  the  miracle 

T}M  origin  of  in  this  instance,"  I  averred. 

the  miracle        u  Don?t  be    too  sure  j     I   never  saw  Hilda 

look  so  radiant  as  she  does  to-night,"  replied 
Mrs.  Durland. 

"  Dressed  as  she  is  in  a  soft  white  cloud, 
she  looks  like  a  blooming  angel,"  mused  the 
artist.  Hilda  was  smiling  back  at  all  the  con- 
gratulating people  gathered  around  her,  and 
was  introducing  Mr.  Morris  right  and  left ; 
and  I  could  imagine  his  wholly  empty  and 
trite  replies  to  their  praises.  As  the  twain 
came  toward  us,  I  stepped  forward  extend- 
ing a  hand  to  each. 

"It  was  surely  a  great  triumph,  for  you 
stilled  the  multitude,"  I  said  warmly. 

"I  am  so  excited,"  replied  Hilda,  "that  I 
Hilda's  am  meditating  a  concert  tour  j  even  now  I  can 
concert  tour  see  mv  hana  bnis  twining  around  telephone 
poles  and  climbing  board  fences." 

"I  hope  you  will  take  me  along,  Miss  Vin- 
cent," said  Mr.  Morris,  lackadaisically. 
188 


A  TRULY  SOCIAL  FUNCTION 

"Oh,  no,  you  are  too  dangerous  a  rival," 
cried  Hilda,  "  all  that  applause  was  yours  to- 
night. I  could  n't  think  of  taking  an  eclipse 
along,  it  would  n't  be  professional." 

Mr.  Day  and  Mr.  Morris  talked  together  for 
a  few  moments  while  Hilda,  Mrs.  Durland  and 
I  chatted.  Afterwards  when  Mr.  Day  passed 
on  with  me  he  asked : 

"Of  what  sort  of  stuff  is  that  fiddler  of  yours 
made  anyway?" 

"I  have  never  tested  his  composition,"  I 
answered  with  conscious  irritation.  "Shall 
we  go  and  get  some  litmus  paper  to  see 
whether  it  turns  blue  or  red  in  his  vicinity?  " 

"I  should  say  he  was  made  of  asbestos  and 
stuffed  with  ice,"  rejoined  Mr.  Day  specula-  Asbestos  and 
tively.     Then  Mrs.  Walton  joined  us  j  she  is  %CG 
a  small  lady  with  a  most  expressive  face,  and 
a  tired  little  wrinkle  between  her  languorous  A  sense  of 
dark   eyes.     Mrs.   Walton  has  a  nestful   of  humor 

pleasing  in  a 

children,  but  we  never  get  tired  of  hearing  parent 
her  tell  about  them,  for  she  has  a  sense  of 
humor  as  well  as  a  sense  of  perspective  which 
most  parents  seem  to  lack  when  talking  about 
their  children.     So  we  hastened  to  ask  her  for 
the  latest  bit  of  news  of  her  brood. 
189 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"I  do  not  know  what  to  do  with  Gertrude," 
said  she  in  a  plaintive,  child-like  voice. 
"However  bad  she  is,  she  never  repents.  She 
may  be  led  to  concede  that  she  will  never 
commit  a  particular  sin  again,  but  I  think  she 
is  always  glad  that  she  committed  it  once ;  she 
regards  every  naughty  act  as  just  that  much 
treasure  laid  up  in  spite  of  fate  and  me.  Yes- 
terday she  and  Dorothy  were  very  naughty, 
and  I  placed  each  in  a  corner,  face  to  the 
wall  and  told  them  to  stand  there  until  they 
felt  repentant.  Dorothy  can  always  repent 
as  soon  as  she  is  hurt,  so  she  was  soon  free. 
But  Gertrude  remained  obdurate  until  she 
swayed  and  tottered  from  standing  so  long  j 
I  felt  sorry  for  her  and  thought  I  would  help 
her  by  prompting  her  conscience  into  imme- 
diate activity,  so  I  asked,  '  Gertrude,  do  you 
not  feel  miserable  ?  '  i  Nowhere  'cept  in  my 
legs/  promptly  replied  the  hardened  little 
sinner."  There  was  a  certain  subdued  quality 
in  the  laughter  which  followed  this  story.  So 
many  of  us  had  experienced  that  sort  of 
repentance  ourselves. 


190 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MENTAL  AND   PHYSICAL    REFRESHMENTS 

JANUARY  10TH  (Continued')  :— I  saw  Pro- 
fessor Wolcott  coming  toward  me,  smiling 
as  ever.  Professor  Wolcott  considers  the 
world  too  infinitesimal  to  scowl  at.  When 
he  reached  me  he  proffered  me  his  arm  and 
said : 

"Come,  Mrs.  Lee,  there  are  several  delect- 
able things  in  the  dining  room  that  were  fore-   A  delightful 
ordained  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  escort 
to  refresh  you  and  me."     I  went  with  him 
gladly ;    there   is  something  about  Professor 
Wolcott  that  touches  the  deeps,  even  if  the 
conversation  remains  in  the  shallows. 

"I  have  not  seen  you  for  a  long  time,"  said 
I,  "tell  me  the  news  of  yourself,  and  how  you 
are  enjoying  your  work,  and  what  you  do  for 
play,  and  all  about  everything." 
191 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"Work  is  going  very  well,"  he  answered, 
Well  his  fine  face  lighting  up.     "I  have  most  satis- 

sculptured  factory  classes  •  and  though  I  dare  not  hope 
ignorance 

that  I  have  set  up  within  the  minds  of  my 

pupils  altars  of  enlightenment,  yet  I  fondly 
believe  that  I  have  chiseled  their  ignorance 
into  more  picturesque  forms  and  more  inter- 
esting shapes." 

"Education  for  most  of  us,  I  fear,  means 
erosion  instead  of  building  up,"  I  answered 
with  an  appreciative  laugh,  "there  is  not 
much  difference  between  teacher  and  pupil, 
between  youth  and  age  in  that  respect— is 
there?  Do  you  know  of  any  differences  be- 
tween youth  and  age  in  any  respect,  if  so 
please  tell  me  what  they  are  !  " 

"One  difference  is  that  when  we  are  young 
How  age  it  seems  difficult  to  really  live  anything,  life 

differs  from   seems  SQ  far  beyond  ^  so  out  of  reac]l?  ^  if 

it  were  at  the  end  of  the  rainbow.  But  when 
we  are  old  it  is  difficult  for  us  not  to  live  all 
things,  we  are  so  intimate  with  living.  When 
we  are  young  there  is  a  wide  chasm  between 
dreaming  and  living ;  but  when  we  are  old 
and  life  gets  worn  in  its  bearings,  the  ma- 
192 


MENTAL  REFRESHMENTS 

chinery  goes  so  easily  that  our  dreams  materi- 
alize while  we  are  dreaming  them." 

"That  is  because  our  dreams  come  to  be 
limited  and  narrowed  to  the  bounds  of  sordid 
possibility.  I  often  think  that  it  would  have 
simplified  matters  if  we  could  all  have  been 
cut  from  the  same  pattern— like  these  cham- 
pagne wafers,  for  instance." 

"  We  are,  and  that  is  another  difference  be- 
tween youth  and  age.  Youth  deems  itself  cut 
after  a  unique  pattern,  while  age  feels  a  kin- 
ship to  all  the  world  and  looks  askance  at  the 
unique." 

"Like  Joe's  description  of  an  entertain- 
ment last  night— he  averred  that  it  was  '  aw- 
fully unique.' " 

"  Great  Scott !  What  are  you  people  doing, 
anyway,  mixing  philosophy  with  ice-cream," 
said  Tom's  voice  behind  us.  "  I  call  it  the 
height  of  egotism  to  philosophize  while  eat- 
ing." 

"  Certainly  it  is,"  rejoined  Professor  Wol- 
cott,    "a  good  healthy   ego  is    able  at  any  A  healthy 
time  to  pat  its  stomach  with  one    hand  and  e9° 
rub  its  head  with  the  other." 
193 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"We  were  discussing  the  very  personal 
topic  of  growing  old,"  I  explained. 

"  What  could  you  youngsters  possibly  find 
Life  grows  to  say  on  that  subject?"  asked  Tom  supe- 
riorly.  "  Now  I  know  something  about  it ;  I 
discovered  that  something  was  the  matter 
with  life  not  long  since,  and  upon  investiga- 
ting found  that  it  was  merely  growing  bald. 
Hard,  bare  facts  are  no  longer  disguised  by 
the  perfumed  and  curly  locks  of  youth ;  but 
they  appear  now  in  all  their  prominences  and 
depressions  like  the  plaster  model  of  the 
phrenologist." 

"  Will  you  cover  it  with  a  skull  cap  of  phil- 
osophy or  a  wig  of  optimism  ?  "  asked  Pro^ 
fessor  Wolcott. 

"  A  halo  of  glamour,   if  you  please,"    an- 
A  halo  of  swered  Tom.    "  By  the  way,  Professor,  I  heard 
glamour  |_ne  jnteresting  news  yesterday  that  you  were 
writing  a  book." 

"  Yes,"  admitted  the  accused,  "  the  mania 
of  the  century  was  upon  me  and  I  felt  that  I 
should  go  sane  if  I  did  not  straightway  write 
a  book." 

"What  is  it  about? "  queried  I. 
194 


MENTAL  REFRESHMENTS 

"  Man." 

"Ethnological  rather  than  humanitarian," 
I  hazarded. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  he  demanded 
with  asperity  "  my  interest  in  humanity  is 
almost  inhuman  at  times." 

"  I  do  not  see  how  you  find  time  to  write 
books,"  I  argued.     "I  do  not  see  how  any  HOW 
professor  in  a  live  college  finds  time  for  writ-  Pr°fessors 


ing.     Father  said  yesterday  that  his  work  was 


so  in  arrears  that  it  was  heaped  mountain- 
high  on  all  sides  of  him,  and  Joe  irreverently 
advised  that  he  burrow  in  it  and  hibernate 
like  a  woodchuck.  I  should  like  to  have  you 
tell  me  where  you  found  the  time  and  energy 
to  write  a  book." 

"  All  things  take  time  and  energy,"  he  ar- 
gued, "  even  keeping  still  and  resting  require 
time  and  energy." 

"  The  energy  being  mainly  directed  to  ward- 
ing off  interruptions,"  suggested  I.  "  It  seems  Life  too  rapid 

to  me  that  our  day  and  generation  are  singu-  f°r  t1lou9llt 

to  take  toll 
larly  unproductive  of  thought.    We  are  all 

so  busy  with  actual  living  that  there  is  little 
chance  for  thought  to  take  toll." 
195 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"That  >s  right,"  said  Tom,  "most  of  us  go 

Human  through  the  day  as  if  we  were  shot  from  a 

projectiles   gun  .  not  only  s|lot  but  witn  a  screw  motion, 

so  that  we  bore  our  way  through  the  business 
of  the  day  without  let  or  hindrance." 

"  And  when  the  work  of  the  day  is  children," 
chimed  in  Mrs.  Walton  who  had  been  listen- 
ing, "  one  has  the  added  task  of  dodging  all 
obstacles  when  speeding  like  a  ball,  which  is 
manifestly  not  the  nature  of  projectiles." 

As  we  left  the  dining-room,  Tom  and  I  drifted 
off  together.  "  I  have  not  seen  you  since  New 
Year's,"  said  I  reproachfully.  "  I  hope  that 
none  of  your  vows  were  made  for  the  purpose 
of  excluding  me." 

"  I  seriously  considered  the  making  of  such 
a  vow,  but  broke  it  before  I  made  it,  which 
was  a  prompt  conservation  of  energy,"  he 
replied.  I  had  not  expected  he  would  say 
just  this,  and  I  went  on,  hurriedly  : 

"What  a  pity  that  the  years  cannot  be 
sliced  completely  apart  at  the  New  Year  like 
pieces  of  bread ! 

Unfinished       u  The  first  order  of  the  New  Year  is  to  pro- 
business  cee^  with  the  unfinished  business,  always. 

196 


MENTAL  REFRESHMENTS 

"Like  weaving  a  pattern,  one  must  always 
finish  what  one  has  been  foolish  enough  to  be- 
gin, and  put  the  finishing  touches  to  the 
figure,  no  matter  how  tired  one  may  be  of  it." 

"Mercy  on  us,  Marian,  what  have  you  been 
doing  that  you  speak  of  it  in  that  lugubrious 
tone?" 

"Nothing  at  all,  just  thinking,"  I  answered 
guardedly. 

"Thinking  about  things  is  most  confound- 
edly disagreeable,  usually,"  he  replied  with 

unction.     "One  could  be  so  cheerfully  sinful,  worse  than 

conscience 

if  it  were  not  for  thinking  about  it.  Think- 
ing is  worse  than  conscience  j  conscience  is 
only  concerned  with  ethics  and  altruism,  while 
thinking  includes  these  and  also  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  spectacle  one  is  making  of  one's 
self  meanwhile." 

"Yes,  that  is  just  it,"  complained  I.  "Being 
bad  is  not  uncomfortable,  it  is  too  often  sheer  The  agonizing 

joy ;  it  is  the  getting  to  be  good  again  that  momentof 

trie  tvtcfccd 

hurts,  just  as  coming  to  consciousness  after 
drowning  is  agonizing." 

"How  did  you  happen  to  find  that  out* 
You  never  'came  to,7  you  know  you  never  did." 
197 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"Tom,  I  am  'coining  to7  this  minute  ;  we  are 
both  bad;  for  here  we  stand  talking  our  own 
talk  when  Ma  Belle  especially  commanded 
that  we  '  mingle."' 

"I  have  mingled  to-night  with  so  much 

Social  energy  and  enthusiasm  that  already  I  feel 

dilution  ^ji^ed,  and  am  a  mere  trituration  of  my  own 

self.     However,  I  will  do  as  I  am  bid,  and 

will  go  and  mingle  some  more,"  grumbled 

Tom  as  he  left  me. 

I  passed  on,  meeting  and  stopping  to  speak 
Under-  to  many,  and  almost  unconsciously  avoiding 
s  others.  Strange  and  unmapped  are  the  under- 
currents of  the  social  sea,  that  flow  straight 
from  one  individual  to  another  and  yet  seem 
never  to  touch  other  individuals  at  all.  Some 
whom  I  met  I  compassed,  and  to  some  I  was 
barely  tangent  and  was  more  than  satisfied 
with  merest  tangency.  I  had  almost  reached 
the  music  room  again  when  a  firm  hand  took 
my  arm  from  behind  and  the  voice  of  Theo- 
dore Morris  murmured  in  my  ear  : 

"You  are  working  too  hard  to-night,  my 
lady,  come  with  me  for  a  moment  and  rest." 
He  drew  my  arm  through  his  and  led  me  to  a 
198 


MENTAL  REFRESHMENTS 

window  seat,  away  from  the  throng.  As  he 
piled  soft  cushions  behind  me  he  continued, 
"Now  rest ;  you  need  not  say  a  word,  and  I 
will  talk  stupid  talk  which  will  require  no 
mental  effort,  on  your  part,  as  listener." 

"I  am  tired  !  "  I  acknowledged  as  I  leaned 
back  luxuriously,  "  I  am  tired  in  that  queer,  Politeness 
quivery  fashion  which  comes  when  one's  f**9v*& 
politeness  aches  from  steady  strain.  I  wish  I 
knew  more  about  the  polite  nerves  and 
muscles ;  I  can  feel  them  in  my  anatomy  but 
I  do  not  know  where  they  are  exactly.  I 
sometimes  get  so  tired  that  I  wish  I  were 
made  of  papier  mache  like  Dr.  Wilde's  manikin, 
so  that  I  could  take  myself  apart  and  lay  each 
piece  off  by  itself  to  rest.  You  have  had  a 
pleasant  evening  I  hope ! " 

"If  I  have  not,  there  was  good  reason  for  it 
and  I  am  making  up  for  it  now.     As  I  saw   Gayety  minus 
you  pass  from  one  to  another  to-night,  smiling  % 
and  sparkling  and  so  eagerly  sought,  I  felt 
old— a  hundred  years  old  and  worn  out.     I 
have  been  meditating  on  the  futility  of  gayety 
when  the  verve  has  gone  out  of  it.     By  Jove, 
it  is  too  much  like  beer  which  has  stood  long 
199 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

in  the  open  glass ;  it  is  not  good  enough  to 
drink  for  pleasure  and  it  is  too  mild  to  effect 
nausea.  It  is  simply  colossally  insipid.  All 
the  evening  I  have  had  the  feeling  of  alleged 
pleasure.  To  act  the  part  well  enough  to  de- 
ceive others  is  easy ;  but  to  act  so  well  that 
one's  self  is  deceived  is  rather  difficult." 

"Except  when  the  red  light  is  turned  on," 
I  interrupted. 
A  stimulant       "  Yes,  red  light  is  a  bracer,"  he  admitted. 

"I  do  not  like  what  you  have  been  saying 
the  least  bit,"  I  remonstrated.  "Everyone 
ought  to  be  deliriously  happy  at  Madam 
Lee's  reception." 

"The  fault  is  with  myself,"  he  hastened  to 
say,  "Madam  Lee  is  superb ;  had  I  been  able 
to  remain  in  her  neighborhood  I  must  cer- 
tainly have  lived  up  to  my  privileges.  The 
trouble  is  I  struck  an  arid  place  to-night. 

"Did  you  ever  notice  that  sometimes  the 

Arid  places  outlook  is  just  teeming  with  interest ;  and 

then  some  morning  one  awakes  to  find  the 

whole  thing  bare,  stale,  flat  and  unprofitable. 

One  day  the  scenery  is  all  high  mountains, 

and  the  next  it  is  all  sand  dunes.  And  I  have 

200 


MENTAL  EEFBESHMEKTS 

been  wandering  among  sand  dunes  all  day." 
I  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  perplexed,  and 
then  said  provokingly,  with  obvious  conde- 
scension : 

"  Poor  boy  !  It  is  almost  as  hard  to  get 
ready  to  live  as  it  is  to  live,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  You  are  naughty,  my  lady,  and  you  know 
it ;  and  you  ought  to  be  punished,"  he  said, 
half  angry  and  half  laughing. 

"  It  is  punishment  enough  to  know  that 
you  have  been  so  miserable,"  I  answered 
softly.  He  looked  comforted  and  took  the  seat 
at  my  side. 

"  You  are  skilled  in  the  art  of  kissing  the 
place  to  make  it  well.     I  am  at  this  moment   On  a  thin 
having  a  perfectly  blissful  time.     My  lady,  c 
you  are  entrancing  in  that  gown !    If  you 
had  let  me  see  more  of  you  I  should  have 
found    my  sand     dunes   blossoming    like    a 
garden." 

"  This  is  the  first  time  this  evening  that 
you  have  evinced  the  slightest  desire  to  see 
me." 

"  What  mendacity  ! "  he  murmured. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  commanded  me  to 
201 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

sit  down/'  I  admitted.     "  I  like  to  be  ordered 
to  do  things." 

"  I  love  to  boss,"  he  interrupted. 

"  People  are  beginning  to  go ! "  I  ex- 
claimed, rising. 

"  Allans,"  he  said  resignedly,  and  together 
we  sought  Ma  Belle.  We  found  her,  and  Mr. 
Morris  expressed  his  thanks  for  a  pleasant 
evening  in  a  most  felicitous  manner. 

Tom  and  I  remained  until  all  the  guests 
had  departed.  I  think  that  both  of  us  wished 
to  make  sure  that  our  dear  one  was  not  too 
tired  after  all  her  hospitable  exertion.  Tom 
said: 

"  Fair  hostess,  it  was  a  great  success.  You 
are  simply  buried  beneath  a  mountain  of 
compliments ;  not  even  your  head  shows 
above  the  heap." 

A  head  above       "  You  are  mistaken,  Tom,  I  always  keep 
compliments  my   head  above  compiiments,"  she    replied 

with  a  vivid  smile. 

"  By  Jove,  you  do  that !  "  asserted  Tom. 
Then  I  kissed  her  and  told  her  it  was  the 
most  interesting  reception  I  had  ever  at- 
tended. 

202 


MENTAL  REFRESHMENTS 

u  Then  I  know  you  were  particularly  inter- 
esting," answered  she.     "  For  a  reception  is   Wherein  a 
like  everything  else  in  life-you  get  out  of 
it  only  what  you  put  into  it."  other 

"Are  you  very  tired?"  I  asked  solici- 
tously. 

"  I  feel  like  this  poor  rose,"  she  answered, 
taking  the  flower  from  her  corsage,  "  my 
petals  are  not  only  limp  but  shriveled." 

"  Your  simile  is  good,  Mrs.  Lee,  the  rose 
is  sweeter  than  when  it  was  fresh,"  said  Tom 
gravely,  taking  the  rose  from  her  hand.  Ma 
Belle  was  silent,  and  I  wondered  if  her  eyes 
were  just  a  little  moist  when  she  bade  us 
good  night.  Tom  and  I  were  both  silent  for  a 
time  after  we  got  into  the  carriage  ;  finally 
he  said : 

"  You  are  tired,  are  n't  you  little  girl  f  " 

"  Tired  to  death  of  myself,  Tom." 

"  Now  what  has  she  been  doing  to  make 
herself  tired  of  her  blessed  self  f  "  mused  Tom. 

"  I  shall  never,  never  tell !  "  I  asserted  with 
energy. 

"  Then  I  shall  have  to  find  out  all  by  my  A  disturbing 
lonely."  proposition 

203 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  Oh,  don't ! "  I  cried  in  a  panic.  "  I  do 
not  want  you  to  be  tired  of  me,  too." 

"  You  need  not  fear  that,  ever,  Marian,"  he 
A  comforting  said  gravely  as  he  helped  me  out  of  the  car- 
good  mglit  r jage?  an(j  there  was  sympathy  and  almost 
tenderness  in  his  tones  as  he  bade  me  good 
night.  And  so,  taking  all  things  into  considera- 
tion, it  is  no  wonder  that  I  cannot  sleep,  and 
that  I  am  keeping  Your  Matchless  Ugliness 
awake  while  the  sma7  hours  have  grown 
greater. 


204 


CHAPTER  XVII 

DOMESTIC    CATACLYSMS,    AND    THEIR    TREAT- 
MENT 

JANUARY   20TH:— Wise  one,  A  suppose  in 
the  land  of  castes,  whence  you  came,  the  Mistress  from 

serving  people  are  in  such  a  state  of  heredi-  necessity 

servant  from 
tary  subjugation  that  the  ways  of  households  choice 

go  on  steadily  with  no  upsets.  Far  different 
is  it  in  this  land  where  the  mistress  is  mistress 
by  necessity  and  the  servant  is  servant  by 
choice.  It  has  always  been  a  source  of  pride 
to  me  that  my  household  folk  are  happy  and 
devoted  to  the  family  interests.  But  this 
does  not  save  me  from  an  occasional  day  of 
extreme  annoyance  when  everything  goes 
wrong.  There  is  hoodoo  in  the  very  atmos- 
phere and  friction  between  every  two 
contiguous  parts  of  the  household  machinery, 
and  the  creaking  thereof  is  nerve-lacerating. 
205 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

The  only  really  strong  point  in  my  character, 
I  daresay,  is  that  I  have  learned  to  keep 
serene  when  everything  around  me  is  seething 
and  bubbling.  That  is  what  I  did  to-day 
when  everything  about  the  house  went 
wrong,  but  I  did  not  know  that  anyone  in  the 
family  realized  it.  Therefore  I  was  amused 
and  a  little  gratified  by  a  conversation  which 
took  place  to-night  when  Ma  Belle  and  Tom 
joined  us  around  the  study  fire. 

"  What  has  happened  to  you  to-day  ? " 
asked  Ma  Belle. 

"  We  have  been  suffering  a  domestic  cata- 
clysm," I  answered  with  feeling,  and  Tom 
exclaimed, 

"  What  do  I  hear  ?  I  had  the  impression 

A  rift  in  tlie  that  your  domestic  affairs  always  ran  smoothly. 

lute  Your  housekeeping  is  famed  for  its  perfection, 

and  now  I  am  informed  that  there  is  a  rift  in 

the  *  lute.     I     am    deeply    pained.     Please 

explain  what  you  mean  by  cataclysms." 

"  Well,  this  morning  the  coffee  was  muddy 

A  household  and  refused  to  pour  through  the  spout  but 

hoodoo  came  out  of  tne  top  and  burned  my  hand. 

The  chops  were  burned  and  the  rolls  heavy 

206 


DOMESTIC  CATACLYSMS 

and  even  the  amiable  pater  remonstrated. 
Mary  was  sulky  and  my  sunny  Maggie  turned 
vixenish.  When  the  exquisite  Mrs.  Delavan 
called,  I  discovered  too  late  that  there  was 
dust  on  the  piano  deep  enough  to  preserve 
cuneiform  inscriptions ;  the  fire-place  was  a 
desert  of  discouraged  looking  cinders  and 
ashes,  and  the  flowers  in  the  vases  were 
too  far  gone  for  anything  save  mementoes." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Joe,  "  and  at  luncheon 
the  salad  had  so  little  dressing,  that  it  was  A  scandalous 
positively  indecent  for  it  to  appear  in  polite  salad 
society ;  and  the  custard  was  as  curdled  as  was 
Mary's  temper  when,  a  little  later,  she  smashed 
the  meat  platter  to  smithereens." 

"  Did  the  Irish  temperament  have  anything 
to  do  with  the  slump  ?  "  asked  Ma  Belle. 

"  I  think  not,"  I  answered  with  decision. 
"  Such  days  come  without  regard  to  tempera-  The  Irish 
ments.  We  are  altogether  too  prone  to 
blame  the  Irish  temperament  for  too  many 
things  that  go  wrong.  After  all  is  said,  the 
Irish  temperament  is  essentially  the  artistic 
temperament  except  that  it  is  less  self-centered. 
Those  possessed  of  it  are  sympathetic,  humor- 
207 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

ous,  making  light  of  burdens  j  imaginative 
and  therefore  often  not  strictly  truthful ;  not 
because  they  mean  to  be  untruthful  but 
The  truth  too  because  the  bare  truth  seldom  satisfies  the 
bare  (jramatic  demands  of  a  situation.  Moreover^ 
they  are  likely  to  experience  sudden  changes 
in  points  of  view ;  and  there  is  a  certain  lack 
of  sequence  in  their  acts,  a  sort  of  an  undis- 
tributed middle  in  their  logic  which  is  discon- 
certing to  the  prosaic  Anglo-Saxon  who  is 
wont  to  call  them  unreliable,  which  is 
unjust." 

"  Bravo  ! "    cried   Tom,   "  I  am  glad  my 
forebears  were  Irish." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  us  how  you  managed 
your  cataclysm,"  said  Ma  Belle. 

"I'll  tell   that    story,"    said    Joe.     "She 

Pleasing  started  in  by  being  entertaining  to  beat  the 

lubrication  band     she  helped  Mary  dust,  conversing  with 

her  vivaciously  meanwhile,  with  marked  and 

gratifying  results.     Then  she  went  into  the 

kitchen  and  was  so  '  fly J  and  diverting  that 

she  soon  had  Maggie  in  high  feather.     Marnie 

does  not  save  up  all  her  social  ammunition 

for  company,  but  uses  it  instead  as  Fourth  of 

July  fireworks  in  the  household  realm." 

208 


DOMESTIC  CATACLYSMS 

"  That 's  true,"  added  father, "  and  she  never 
finds  fault  at  the  moment  a  thing  goes  wrong,    Constructive 
but  waits  until  the  annoyance  of  the  failure  ******** 
has  passed  from  the  mind  of  the  servant  as 
well  as  her  own.     This  is  the  way  she  manages 
to  make  her  criticisms  constructive  instead  of 
destructive." 

"  Eight  you  are,  Professor,"  pursued  the  ir- 
reverent Joe.     "  1 711  tell  you  how  she  does  it :   TJie  reduction 
She  takes  the  domestic  cataclysm  in  her  arms  °l a 

domestic 
and  pats  it  on  the  back  until  it  changes  to  a  cataclysm 

kittyclysm  ;  and  then  she  gently  strokes  the 
fur  the  right  way  until  there  is  nothing  left 
but  the  wide  smile  of  the  Cheshire  cat." 

We  all  laughed  and  the  conversation  drifted 
to  more  interesting  channels.  When  Ma 
Belle  and  Tom  were  getting  ready  to  depart, 
the  latter  said  to  me  when  no  one  else  heard  : 

"Madam  Marian,  I  wish  I  were  a  cata- 
clysm," and  he  looked  at  me,  his  face  lighted 
with  his  most  delightful  smile. 

"Why  take  such  extreme  measures?"     I 
asked  audaciously.     His  smile  suddenly  went  An  audacious 
out,  and  his  face  looked  worn  and  tired  as  he 
bade  me  good  night. 

209 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THROUGH  THE  PINE  WOODS  WITH  TOM 

T^EBRUARY20TH  :— Since  teak- wood  neither 
February  JL  freezes  nor  melts,  I  imagine  that  your  Gra- 
premonitions  cious  Presence  is  not  much  interested  in  the 
weather ;  however,  since  these  confessions  are 
mine  and  not  yours,  I  take  the  liberty  of  stat- 
ing that  we  have  had  a  short  respite  from 
cold  weather,  and  for  a  day  or  two  we  have 
dared  to  have  February-ish  thoughts  of 
spring.  And  to-day  Tom  came  after  me  for 
the  long  promised  drive  to  the  pine  woods. 

We  started  at  four  o'clock.     The  air  was  al- 
An  most  balmy  and  the  sleighing  was  perfect. 

accomplished  Tom  tucked  me  jn  carefiilly  for  he  knows  I  am 
driver 

a  luxurious  body  and  that  I  love  to  have  about 

me  the  warm,  furry  skins  that  once  kept  warm 

the  howling  wolf.    The  horses  were  in  gay 

210 


A  DEIVE  WITH  TOM 

spirits  and  gave  Tom  plenty  of  chances  to 
show  his  superb  skill  as  a  driver  j  there  is 
between  him  and  his  horses  a  perfect  under- 
standing, and  he  never  uses  the  whip  except 
when  teaching  them  to  obey  his  voice.  This 
once  accomplished,  his  voice  is  the  controlling 
power  and  his  driving  is  a  work  of  art. 

"What  a  delightful  sensation  after  such  an 
awful  day  as  I  have  had  ! "  I  exclaimed  with 
a  sigh  of  contentment. 

"What  has  made  her  day  so  awful?  "  Tom 
asked  soothingly. 

"A    day   spent  with    the   oughts,— social 
oughts,   business    oughts,  household    oughts,   An  expert 
and  all  this  array  of  oughts  added  together  accountant 
has  produced  naught  save  weariness." 

"I  don't  see  it  that  way  at  all,  little  woman. 
I  place  you  as  the  numeral  at  the  left  of  all 
those  naughts  and  it  makes  a  big  figure. 
Great  Scott,  Marian,  you  never  did  know  how 
to  count?  " 

"Thank  you,"   I  murmured  meekly.     "I 

hope  you  do  not  think  that  I  was  complaining. 

It  is  only  that  I  sometimes  feel  that  under 

the  pressure  of  these  outside  oughts  the  inside 

211 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

decencies  get  crowded  into  a  small  corner ; 
somehow  it  hurts  one's  self-respect." 

"Better  say  vanity  is  hurt.  Each  and 
every  woman  nowadays  is  perfectly  sure 
that  she  can  do  all  the  things  there  are  to  do 
in  this  big  world  j  and  when  she  finds  this  an 
impossible  achievement,  her  vanity  is  hurt, 
eh?" 

"Oh,   well !    The  difference  between  self- 

Vanity  or  self-  respect  and  vanity  is  merely  one  of  degree,  I 

respect?  suppose  j  vanity  craves  the  approval  of  the 

world  at  large  and  self-respect  demands  the 

approval  of  self  as  well ;  it  is  a  little  more 

subjective,  that  is  all." 

"Oh,  you  bad  little  cynic ! "  exclaimed 
Tom,  with  a  most  dramatic  gritting  of  the 
teeth. 

"No,  I  am  not  a  cynic ;  but  as  the  years  go 
The  wrong  on  I  find  new  powers  in  myself  for  transmut- 

Und  °f  ing  the  gold  of  enthusiasm  into  the  lead  of 
alchemy 

commonplace— a  sort  of  back-action  alchemy 

that  has  never  received  as  much  attention 
from  philosophers  as  it  deserves." 

We  were  now  climbing  the  hill.     It  had 
212 


A  DKIVE  WITH  TOM 

been  a  soft,  mild  day,  save  for  erratic,  furtive 
snow  squalls  which  threatened  to  turn  to  rain.  An  impres- 
ts we  gained  the  crest  of  a  knoll,  Tom 
stopped  the  horses  while  we  looked  at  the 
scene  below  us.  The  hills  on  the  far  horizon 
were  dimly  veiled  in  storm  clouds  so  that 
they  seemed  very  distant ;  the  nearer  hills 
were  in  shadow  j  the  forests  scattered  over 
them,  outlined  by  snowy  fields,  were  a  vivid 
blue-purple—such  a  color  as  only  an  impres- 
sionist dares  to  paint  j  and  yet  it  was  so  in 
harmony  with  the  landscape  and  sky  that  it 
was  beyond  the  reach  of  any  impressionist. 
While  I  was  reveling  in  this  marvelous  color, 
the  sun  rifted  the  clouds,  and  a  field  of  sun- 
shine sprang  into  being  just  beyond  the 
purple.  It  was  all  so  beautiful  that  the  tears 
came  into  my  eyes. 

"  It  is  beautiful,  is  it  not  ?  "  said  Tom  ;  as  I 
did  not  answer,  he  looked  at  me  and  then  added 
remorsefully :  "I  am  a  blunderer,  Marian. 
How  is  it  that  you  who  revel  in  the  subtle 
suggestiveness  of  elisions  ever  came  to  be 
friends  with  me,  who,  like  an  overgrown  boy 
213 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

in  the  reading  class  spell  all  my  words  out 
letter  by  letter,  syllable  by  syllable,  at  the 
top  of  my  voice  ?  " 

A  very  good       "  I  suspect  it  is  because  I  enjoy  your  voice/' 
reason  j  answered  with  a  contented  laugh. 

"  Nice  girl !  "  said  Tom  as  he  reached  for 

Evergreen  the  robes  to  fold  them  closer  around  me.     We 

twilight  Sped  onwar(j  ^ii  we  reached  a  high  plateau, 

and  there  massed  darkly  against  the  northern 
horizon  were  the  pine  woods.  The  setting 
sun  threw  slant  beams  athwart  its  blackness 
touching  the  nearer  trees  into  soft  billows 
of  light,  and  then  disappearing  left  all  in 
shadow.  It  was  deep  twilight  in  the  woods 
as  we  entered  ;  the  almost  oppressive  silence 
was  broken  only  by  the  sound  of  the  horses7 
hoofs  on  the  scant  snow  of  the  needle-car- 
peted road.  On  either  side  dimly  visible  were 
innumerable  columns  holding  aloft  the  black 
canopy,  which  was  broken  in  a  tasseled  fresco 
above  our  heads,  against  a  sky  beset  with 
stars  which  had  been  invisible  to  us  until  then. 
Almost  imperceptibly  we  became  conscious 
of  a  faint,  far,  mysterious  sound— a  sibilant 
214 


A  DRIVE  WITH  TOM 

breathing  somewhere  aloft  which  grew  louder 

as  it  came  nearer,  until,  like  a  great  surf  on  a  TJie  song  of 

rocky  shore,  it  seemed  to  break  above  our  the  Pines 

heads,  and  then  recede,  leaving  us  again  in 

silence.     Tom   murmured,  "  I  left  the  bells 

off  the  horses  to-night  that  we  might  hear 

this."     Again  and  again  as  we   passed  on, 

came  that  all-pervading,  mysterious  flood  and 

ebb  of  sound.     It  was  overwhelming  to  the 

spirit  j  I  felt  awed,  as  if  I  had  unwittingly 

shared  a  service  in  some  vast,  secret  temple 

of  the  gods.     It  was  almost  a  relief  when  we 

emerged  into  the  after-glow  of  the  sunset  and 

felt  that  we  were  again  in  our  own  world. 

For  some  time  we  were  both  silent  and  then 

Tom  said  softly : 

"  I  knew  you  would  like  it." 

"  Why,  Oh  why  did  you  never  bring  me 
here  before  ?  "  I  asked  aggrieved.  Tom  ignored 
the  question  and  said  : 

"  I  often  come  here ;  a  drive  through  those 
woods  seems  to  simplify  life."  His  answer  TJiepine 

gave  me  a  vague  sensation  of  unrest,  mak-  woods 

,    ,  ,          ,...,          -  ,  .      .  simplify  life 

ing  me  feel  anew  hew  little    of  his  inner 

215 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 
life  I  was  permitted  to  know.    I  said  with  a 
sigh: 

"  I  cannot  realize  that  anyone  ever  passed 
through  those  woods  before,  since  the  world 
began.  I  felt  immersed  in  primeval  soli- 
tude." 

The  moon,  still  a  crescent,  was  hanging 
against  the  luminous  green  of  the  western  hori- 
zon, as  we  descended  the  hill,  following  a 
stream  in  its  downward  course.  The  water, 
turbulent  beneath  its  ice-bonds,  was  struggling 
for  release.  While  we  listened  to  its  rebel- 
lious murmur,  Tom  said : 

"  Water  is  a  comforting  element,  it  is  so 
The  comfort  confoundingly  simple  in  its  action ;  it  flows 

of  obeying  ^own  hill  without  ever  questioning  whether 
the  law  of 

nature  it  might  not  be  better  to  flow  up  hill  instead." 

unquestion-       u  Yes,  its  philosophy  puts  in  neither  dams 
ing  y  nor  pumps,"  I  answered  sympathetically. 

"  I  do  not  believe  in  a  philosophy  that 
thwarts  nature's  laws  for  unnatural  ends,  I'll 
be  hanged  if  I  do,"  said  Tom  grimly.  Just 
then  a  meteor  drew  a  luminous  line  on  the 
sky,  and  I  said  musingly  : 
216 


A  DEIVE  WITH  TOM 

"  The  sky  is  careless  of  her  stars  to-night 
tossing  them  down  to  us  through  the  ether." 
We  were  crossing  a  bridge,  and  Tom  ex- 
claimed : 

"Yes,  look  down  there  in  that  still  pool  and 
see  two  of  them  which  have  just  dropped  in  ; 
there  they  are  and,  by  Jove  !  they  are  shining  shining  up 

as  brightly  as  if  they  were  in  the  sky."  as  wett  as 

down 
"It  is  a  fine  achievement  to  be  able  to  shine 

up  as  well  as  down,  is  n't  it?" 

"'I  guess  you  know  more  than  I  do  about 
that,  little  girl,"  said  Tom.  I  cannot  quite 
understand  why  I  so  enjoy  having  Tom  call 
me  "little  girl,"  for  I  am  not  a  girl,  neither 
am  I  very  little  ;  but  when  he  calls  me  this  I 
am  conscious  of  a  sudden  and  large  increase 
in  my  psychic  income. 

When  we  finally  reached  the  city  street,  I 
felt  as  if  I  had  awakened  from  a  dream.  As 
Tom  assisted  me  to  alight  I  said, 

"How  can  I  ever  thank  you*? " 

"You  do  not  need  to,"  he  answered,  and  I 
knew  it  was  true.  And  now  while  thinking 
it  all  over,  I  am  wondering  what  I  have  ever 
217 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

done  that  I  should  gain  from  this  world  such 

A  glimpse  of  a  beautiful  experience  as  I   have  had  this 
Walhalla 


care  for  us  and  give  us  once  in  a  life-time  a 
glimpse  of  Walhalla.  That  expresses  it!  I 
feel  the  same  elation  that  I  always  experience 
when  I  listen  to  the  Walhalla  motif,  suddenly 
enfolding  in  its  exquisite  harmonies  the  vast 
restlessness  of  the  Wagner  music. 


218 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  SKILFUL  WOOING 

MARCH  IST  :— My  confessor,  do  you  ever 
feel  a  nameless  terror  inspired  by  the  Wind- 
wind?  Just  listen  to  it  now  howling  around  worshiP 
the  sharp  corners  of  our  gables,  shrieking  and 
roaring  the  while  it  is  trying  to  lift  the  scant 
snow  from  the  hills  and  deposit  it  in  the  valley 
below  !  Look  once  at  the  great  balsam  firs  in 
front  of  the  window  bend  and  stretch  out 
their  short  arms  helplessly  to  the  blast,  com- 
plaining meanwhile  in  deep  sighs  !  The  wind 
excites  me  and  makes  me  afraid.  If  I  were 
to  worship  any  of  the  natural  forces  I  should 
have  to  be  a  wind-worshipper. 

I  have  not  been  making  many  confessions  of 
late,  have  I?  The  reason  is  that  I  do  not 
know  what  to  confess  ;  and  there  is  so  much  of 
perplexity  in  my  daily  life  that  I  do  not  wish 
to  relive  it  again  at  night  in  confessions. 
219 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

Earely  a  day  goes  by  without  a  call  or  some 
token  from  Theodore  Morris.  These  tokens 
which  he  sends  evince  his  skill  as  a  wooer. 
One  day  it  is  a  bunch  of  violets  or  a  single 
rose ;  the  next,  a  book  of  poems  or  the  latest 
novel ;  the  next  day  may  bring  some  witticism 
clipped  from  a  paper  or  perhaps  a  picture  cut 
from  a  magazine.  In  some  forgotten  moment 
I  must  have  expressed  to  him  my  love  for 
trees,  and  the  fascination  which  felines  possess 
for  me,  for  he  is  constantly  sending  me  pic- 
tures of  trees,  from  the  pine  to  the  lombardy 
poplar  j  and  pictures  of  cats  from  slinking 
leopards  and  snarling  tigers  to  wee  pussy-cats. 

His  plan  seems  to  be  that  no  day  shall  go 
by  without  bringing  me  something  which 
shall  turn  my  thoughts  toward  him. 

As  often  as  twice  a  week  he  and  Hilda  have 
Music,  the  played  for  me  delectable  music ;  music  which, 
only  bond  j  am  gia(j  to  say,  was  so  superb  that  it  ren- 
dered me  quite  oblivious  to  my  devoted 
virtuoso.  So  far  as  I  am  able  to  discern,  he 
and  Hilda  have  only  one  bond  holding  them 
together  and  that  is  their  music.  Their  con- 
versation is  mostly  superficial,  mere  persiflage. 
220 


A  SKILFUL  WOOING 

On  the  other  hand  he  never  suffers  from  her 
asperities,  and  there  is  a  fine  gravity  in  his 
real  attitude  toward  her,  which  their  non- 
sensical conversation  never  quite  hides. 
Hilda  refuses  to  tell  what  she  thinks  of  him ; 
when  I  ask  her,  she  says  that  she  has  not 
thought  about  him,  and  looks  bored. 

The  fact  which  confronts  me  is  that  his 
love-making    of  late    has  been  of  the  most   We  are 

insidious   and    fascinating  kind.      I  cannot 

carved  oy 

reason  it  out  why  I  find  it  so  fascinating  to  -heredity 
be  made  love  to ;  my  common  sense  and  all 
the  wisdom  there  is  in  me  say  it  is  utter 
folly.  Ah  me !  Long  ago  I  gave  up  the 
doctrine  of  free  will  j  we  are  marionettes 
carved  by  heredity,  and  we  are  obliged  to 
dance  when  circumstances  pull  the  strings. 
I  have  evidently  inherited  my  attitude  to- 
ward love-making  from  all  of  my  feminine 
ancestors,  back  to  the  time  of  Eve,  who  varied 
the  monotony  of  Eden  by  listening  to  the 
flatteries  of  the  serpent. 

It  is  no  more  than  fair  to  myself  to  state 
that  Theodore  Morris'  power  over  me  is  not 
entirely  due  to  his  masterly  love-making  j  he 
221 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

makes  me  like  Mm  without  any  regard  to 
The  subtle  what  he  does  or  is.     His  ascendency  over  me 

force  of  a  was  w(m  ^    ^e  most  subtle  force  I  ever  en- 
personality 

countered— a  force  I  have  not  been  able  to 

analyze  or  explain.  Probably  one  of  its  ele- 
ments comes  from  the  remarkable  way  he 
seems  to  understand  me ;  he  really  knows  me 
far  better  than  does  father  or  Joe.  It  is  one 
of  the  amazing  mysteries  of  this  amazing 
world  that  those  about  us  read  only  certain 
obvious  chapters  of  our  personality,  and 
some  stranger  discovers  the  hidden  page  of 
which  we,  ourselves,  are  scarcely  conscious ! 
Evidently  I  am  an  open  book  to  T.  M.  from 
preface  to  appendix ;  and  it  is  insidiously 
The  flattery  flattering  to  be  so  deftly  understood.  More- 

of  being  over    ^  js  so  novel  to  fin(j  a  man  who  really 
understood 

cares  to  take  the  trouble   to   understand  a 

woman  that  it  is  no  wonder  I  am  impressed 
by  the  phenomenon. 

Common  sense   is    chiefly  valuable    as   a 
The  active  or  means   of    accurate    nomenclature ;  and    my 

passive  voice  commoll  sense  tells  me  that  I  am  quite  as 
ofamo 

much  of  an  idiot  as  the  maiden  in  her  teens 

who  mistakes  the  passive  for  the  active  voice 

222 


A  SKILFUL  WOOING 

in  conjugating  amo.  I  am  perfectly  aware 
I  am  taking  great  pains  to  go  out  of  my 
way  to  make  myself  trouble  ;  I  am  consciously 
allowing  myself  to  be  deflected  misery- ward. 

It  is  shilly-shallying  which  saps  the  moral 
strength.      The    half-and-half  attitude  is  a  The  dangers 
most  dangerous  one  ;  strength  can  be  frittered  of  indecision 
away  much  more  surely  than  it  can  be  torn 
away.    I  realize  all  this  but  it  does  not  seem 
to  help  much. 

And  all  this  is  happening  to  me  j  after  all 
my  experience,  all  my  resolves,  and  all  my  Every  decade 

wisdom  which  I  have  been  wont  to  define  so   we  molt  our 

,  feelings  and 
airily  as  "  knowledge  changed  into  activity."  interests 

Keally  the  death  and  burial  of  a  person  is  no 
more  terrifying  than  this  death  which  comes 
to  us  periodically  in  matters  of  feeling  while 
we  live.  We  practically  suffer  reincarna- 
tion every  decade.  We  grow  on  and  on,  like 
Jack's  bean-stalk,  until  our  cotyledons  are  so 
far  below  that  we  cannot  discern  their 
shrunken  shapes.  Woe  is  me  !  I  felicitated 
myself  that  after  the  fortieth  mile  stone  No  easy  grade 

was   passed  I  should  find  an  easy  down-hill  on  the  road  of 

experience 
grade  whereon   I  could    safely  coast  while 

223 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL, 

enjoying  the  scenery.  But  there  seems  to  be 
no  long  stretch  of  experience's  road  where 
the  slope  is  in  the  right  direction ! 

MAKCH  2ND  :— A  certain  grimness  in  your 
Spring  smile  to-night,  My  Confessor,  leads  me  to 
prophecies  ^jujr  ^a^  yOU  jnight  appreciate  a  specific 
confession  as  to  the  methods  pursued  by  T.  M. 
when  wooing.  He  came  this  afternoon  and 
insisted  that  I  go  with  him  for  a  walk  j  he  de- 
clared that  the  snow  was  melted  from  the 
north  bank  of  the  river  and  that  it  was  a 
prime  necessity  that  we  go  and  examine  it. 
As  we  followed  the  river  path  there  was  a 
suggestion  of  spring  in  the  "  phoebe  "  song  of 
the  chickadee,  and  the  trill  which  a  nuthatch 
had  substituted  for  his  usual  nasal  monosylla- 
ble. Notwithstanding  the  scene  was  all  that 
he  had  promised,  mi-lord  was  gloomy  and 
silent  j  he  is  always  silent  when  he  does  not 
feel  like  speaking,  but  there  was  in  his  silence 
this  afternoon  something  which  suggested 
anew  that  his  ways  were  devious ;  and  as  usual 
this  deviousness  was  a  temptation  to  me.  It 
is  always  a  danger  to  me  not  to  know  just 
224 


"  But  there  seems  to  be  no  long  stretch  of  experience's  road  where 
the  slope  is  in  the  right  direction  !  " 


A  SKILFUL  WOOING 

where  I  am  in  any  particular   experience; 

it  goads  me  on  to  desperate  deeds  to  relieve  Maddening 

the    uncertainty.     I  imagine  that  woman's  uncertainty 

most  reprehensible  acts  have  often  been  the 

results  of  maddening  uncertainty.  This  may 

account  for  what  I  said,  since  nothing  else 

can. 

"  Why  are  you  so  silent  and  gloomy  ? "  I 
asked  in  tones  as  tender  as  if  they  had  been 
parboiled. 

"  'T  is  the  silence  of  happiness  my  lady," 
he  responded  while  the  line  between  his  eyes 
deepened. 

"  Nonsense  !  You  are  not  conscious  of  me 
at  all ;  you  are  simply  and  obviously  con- 
scious of  yourself  and  your  own  thoughts." 

"  How  can  I  tell,  since  the  consciousness  of  A  pretty 
you  is  almost  self-consciousness,"  he  answered  sPeech 
musingly. 

"  That  is  a  pretty  speech  but  not  very  con- 
vincing." 

"  I  did  not  expect  you  to  believe  it ;  I 
offered  it  for  your  inspection  as  a  single  ray 
taken  from  the  halo  which  you  have  thrown 
around  my  thoughts." 

225 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  You  are  hopelessly  blind,  did  you  know 
it?'7 

"Yea,  verily,"  he  answered,  "I  cannot  see 
Glamour-  clearly  because  my  eyes  are  dimmed  with  the 
glamour  of  happiness  to  come."  Then  his 
mood  changed  suddenly  and  he  became  an 
intensely  conscious  part  of  the  world  about 
us  j  he  whistled  the  chickadee  song  until  we 
were  followed  by  the  beguiled  titmouse.  Once 
he  placed  his  hand  suddenly  on  mine  to  stay 
my  steps  while  we  listened  to  a  woodpecker 
sounding  his  roll  on  the  dead  branch  of  a 
hickory  just  in  front  of  us ;  incidentally,  he 
did  not  let  go  of  my  hand  until  I  took  it 
The  writing  away.  We  climbed  the  bank,  following  the 

ly  the  brook-  course  of  a  brook  beset  with  fascinating  tracks 
side 

of  beasties  along  its  snowy  rim,  and  my  com- 
panion turned  hunter  and  resolved  these  trails 
into  those  made  by  squirrel,  mouse  and  bunny. 
The  day  grew  sombre  suddenly  $  as  we  at- 
tained a  sightly  point  we  beheld  the  clouds  in 
gray  billows  hung  low  over  hills  forebodingly 
blue ;  then  for  a  moment  the  sun  appeared 
again  and  sent  adrift  down  the  valley  a  few 
stray  rays  of  sunlight  which,  in  passing, 
226 


A  SKILFUL  WOOING 

touched  the  purple  forests  into  golden,  the 

snow  to  silver  and  the  winding  river  to  bur-  A  usurped 

nished  bronze.    "We  found  a  dry  stump  all  t 

flounced  and  furbelowed  with  fungi  which  he 

declared  was  a  Druid  throne  and  which  I  at 

once  usurped. 

"No  queen  was  ever  so  satisfied  with  her 
kingdom  as  I  with  this/'  I  averred,  pointing 
to  the  valley  under  its  changing  hues. 

"You  have  come  into  only  a  small  part  of 
your  kingdom,  dear  queen  j  the  rest  is  wait- 
ing, are  you  never  coming  to  claim  it?"  These 
words  were  uttered  in  a  passionate  whisper  as 
he  drew  close  to  me,  and  for  one  brief  moment 
I  saw  what  seemed  desperation  in  those  un- 
fathomable eyes.  Confessor,  no  one  but  you  A  perilous 
shall  ever  know  how  near  I  came  to  saying  at  moment 
that  moment  just  two  words,  "I  come."  The 
situation  demanded  it,  and  I  longed  to  know 
what  would  really  happen  if  I  said  them ;  but 
some  remnant  of  common  sense  restrained  my 
dramatic  curiosity  and  saved  me. 

"No  use  !  "  I  sighed.     "I  could  not  find  a 
competent  chancellor  of  the  exchequer  j  be- 
sides, it  would  be  such  a  task  to  decide  what 
227 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

style  of  crown  would  be  most  becoming  to 
me." 

"You  are  frivolous,  my  lady,  horribly  frivo- 
lous.-- 

"Do  you  not  suppose  that  the  boundaries  of 
The  question  her  kingdom  are  of  less  importance  to  any 

of  crown-  queen  than  the  becomingness  of  her  crown  ?  " 
jewels 

I  demanded  indignantly  ;   then  I  asked  with 

mock  impressiveness,  "What  jewels  would  you 
really  advise  for  my  crown,  dewdrops  or  snow 
crystals?" 

"Opals,  my  lady,  surely  opals  above  all 
others." 

"Why,  pray?" 

The  opal       "The  opal  epitomizes  love— it  is  always  the 
typifies  love  same?  an(j  vet  never  quite  the  same." 

"For  instance?" 

"One  moment  it  is  pale  and  pure,  the  next 
it  is  green  and  restful,  then  blue  and  deep 
and  then  purple  and  rich.  It  flashes  for  a 
moment  with  the  yellow  rays  of  happiness  the 
while  it  hides  in  its  depths  the  red  glow  of 
human  passion,  and  the  topaz  glitter  of  jeal- 
ousy. It  is  changeful  and  abiding,  perhaps 
abiding  because  changeful."  He  said  this 
228 


A  SKILFUL  WOOING 

slowly  and  impersonally  while  looking  at  a 
magnificent  opal  set  in  the  ring  on  his  third 
finger.  It  was  an  interesting  interpretation 
of  the  stone,  but  I  thought  a  change  in  the 
tenor  of  the  conversation  desirable. 

"On  the  whole,  I  think  I  prefer  the  red 
feathers  which  crown  yonder  woodpecker; 
they  would  surely  be  becoming  and  would  not 
weigh  down  the  royal  head,"  I  exclaimed 
gayly,  as  I  abdicated  my  throne  and  turned 
my  steps  homeward.  Again  he  became  silent 
and  moody,  striding  along  at  my  side  as  if  he 
were  going  to  war  instead  of  rambling  for 
pleasure.  I  began  to  chatter ; 

"A  walk  like  this  makes  for  freedom  from 
carking  care.  I  have  quite  forgotten  how  des-  The  crowded 

perately  busy  I  was  this  morning,  and  how  my  moments 

march 
moments  marched  lockstep,  each  jostling  the 

one  ahead  in  a  most  trying  and  rude  manner. 
I  should  like  my  moments  to  be  polite  and 
courteous  to  each  other  ;  I  should  rather  have 
them  dance  grave  minuets  than  mad  jigs." 

"As  the  moment  is  bent,  the  day  is  inclined," 
he  muttered. 

"  Yes,  I  sometimes  believe  that  with  all  my 
229 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

hurry  and  worry  I  shall  be  reduced  to  a  mere 
wraith,  transparent  and  impalpable." 

"  Never  fear,   my  lady,   you  will  remain 
The  security  opaque  for  some  time  yet,"  he  interrupted 
of  opacity  with  evident  irritation. 

"  Thanks,"  I  murmured  fervently. 

When  we  arrived  home  I  invited  him  to 
stay  to  dinner  and  he  accepted  without 
enthusiasm.  Later  Hilda  came  and  the 
evening  was  made  rapturous  with  their  music. 
Except  when  playing,  Mr.  Morris  was  obviously 
gloomy  during  the  entire  evening  5  and  Hilda 
was  quiet  and  wholly  uninteresting. 

I  cannot  say  that  I  am  really  any  farther 
Kismet  along  the  fatal  path  I  am  treading  than  I  was 
this  morning,  and  yet  I  feel  that  I  am.  A 
new  comprehension  of  the  word  "  kismet "  is 
coming  to  me.  I  suppose  a  trout  hooked 
securely  to  a  long  line  made  fast  to  a  beauti- 
ful, flexible  bamboo  rod  says  to  itself  "  This  is 
nothing,  I  shall  soon  get  away ! "  and  there- 
upon makes  sundry  wild  rushes  this  way  and 
that  and  later,  when  it  is  lifted  flopping  into 
the  net,  it  might,  if  it  could  speak,  give  a  brand- 
new  definition  to  that  queer  word  kismet. 
230 


A  SKILFUL  WOOING 
MARCH  15TH  .-—Nearly  two  weeks  since  I 
confessed,  is  n't  it  ?  Well,  though  it  has  been 
a  tempestuous  March,  my  path  has  been 
strewn  with  the  blossoms  of  narcissus  and  I 
am  drunk  with  their  fragrance. 

It  seems  to  me  that  of  late  there  is  a  veil 
hung  between  Hilda  and  myself.  We  see  Gambling 
each  other  often,  and  we  talk  as  usual,  and  yet  with 
there  is  always  present  somewhat  of  con- 
straint. It  may  be  that  my  attitude  toward 
my  own  affairs  is  responsible  for  it.  I  would 
gladly  turn  to  Hilda  for  advice  in  solving  my 
most  perplexing  problem,  only  at  bottom  I 
know  that  I  desire  neither  help  nor  advice. 
I  am  playing  fan-tan  with  destiny  and  I  will 
play  it  alone.  Besides,  I  could  not  endure 
Hilda's  scathing  criticism  of  my  folly.  I 
believe  if  she  and  T.  M.  were  better  friends  I 
should  feel  more  like  confiding  the  question 
to  her  5  but  they  seem  strangers  to  each  other 
except  when  playing  together.  One  might 
think  that  music  would  limber  their  recipro- 
cal indifference,  but  music  land  is  far  from 
this  world  and  has  little  to  do  with  it. 


231 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  NICE  AFTERNOON.      LOVE'S  INITIATION  FEE 


M 


"ARCH  16TH:— Such  a  delightful  after- 
noon !  Hilda  and  I  were  sewing 
comfortably  before  the  fire  when  Ma  Belle 
came  in.  She  has  been  having  a  most  trying 
experience  with  a  sister-in-law  who  is  always 
in  trouble  and  always  asking  for  advice  which 
she  never  by  any  chance  follows.  To-day 
Ma  Belle  evidently  came  to  me  for  comfort, 
for  she  was  obviously  downcast  when  she 
came  in. 

"  What  new  misfortune  has  come  to  Aunt 
Emma,"  I  asked. 

"  She  never  has  new  misfortunes,"  averred 

inherent  Ma  Belle,  "  her  misfortunes  are  inherent  and 

misfortunes  were  born  with  her,  being  a  part  and  parcel 

232 


A  NICE  AFTERNOON 

of  her  permanent  condition.  She  is  like  a 
sore  thumb ;  every  time  anything  in  her 
vicinity  moves  she  gets  a  whack." 

"  She  always  seems  meekness  personified,'7 
said  Hilda." 

"  That  is  one  of  her  vices,"  declared  ma 
mere.  u  I  get  irritable  in  the  presence  of  Her  cross,  a 

that  self-effacing    attitude.     The    more   she  ™aP°n°f 

offence 

effaces  herself,  the  more  aggressive  she  really 
is.  Instead  of  bearing  her  cross  she  uses  it  as 
a  weapon  of  offence,  batting  every  one  with  it 
who  is  unlucky  enough  to  be  in  her  proximity. 
Her  warped  judgment  and  twisted  ideals  are 
the  result  of  her  belief  in  her  own  meekness.  The  fatal 

Whatever  she  does  she  knows  is  right.     Great  eddies  in  the 

wake  of  action 
heavens !    It  almost  comforts  me  for  never 

doing  what  I  know  is  right." 

"  I  never  thought  Aunt  Emma  sufficiently 
decisive  to  be  even  self-complacent,"  said  I 
with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  she  is  n't  decisive,"  groaned  Ma  Belle, 
"  she  is  always  flopping  around  in  the  etcetera 
of  events." 

"  As  for  that,"  I  argued  with  a  guilty 
conscience,  "it  is  astonishing  how  little  of 
233 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

good  or  ill  any  of  us  do  under  the  stress  of 
decisive  action,  and  how  much  of  both  we  do 
when  drifting  around  in  the  currents  set  up 
by  such  action." 

"  I  see  plainly  that  Aunt  Emma  is  likely  to 
be  the  origin  of  a  philosophy,"  laughed  Hilda. 

"  Let 's  not  argue  j  I  came  here  to  be 
soothed  and  to  receive  sympathy  and  support," 
said  Ma  Belle  with  a  long  and  deep  sigh. 

"Please  hem  this  napkin  for  me,"  said  I, 
Plain  sewing  "there  is  nothing  so  soothing  to  lacerated 
cmg  feminine  nerves  as  nice  plain  sewing ;  it  is 
like    smoking    for   calming   masculine    ner- 
vousness."    Ma  Belle  smiled  and  seated  her- 
self comfortably  to  her  task. 

"We  have  reason  to  be  thankful  that  when 
the  recording  angel  scores  he  does  not  have  to 
bother  with  the  whys  and  wherefores ;  this  is 
no  more  than  fair  since  our  virtuous  deeds 
are  quite  as  often  the  results  of  accident  as 
are  our  sins,"  said  I  after  we  had  been  sewing 
in  silence  for  some  time. 
Virtues  "Listen  to  my  aphorism  :  My  sins  are  inci- 

acddental,   flen|-ai   ^o   my  virtues,  and   my  virtues  are 

sins 

incidental  mostly    accidental   to   my   sins ! "     declared 
Hilda  grandly. 

234 


A  NICE  AFTEBNOON 

"That  sounds  impressive,"  said  Ma  Belle, 
"but  I  never  shall  be  reconciled  to  the  waste-   The  glut  of 

ful  plan  of  this  universe.     We  all  live  and  ready-made 

experience 
store  up  experience  for  nothing  apparently 

since  those  we  would  guide  will  have  none  of 
it,  and  we  mostly  attain  it  too  late  to  make 
it  of  much  use  to  ourselves.  Why  must  each 
one  experience  all  things  for  himself  as  if 
there  were  not  a  world  full  of  ready-made 
experience  waiting  for  him  f  " 

"It  is  necessary  in  order  to  develop  indi 
viduality,"  I  ventured  tritely. 

"Oh,  I  am  tired  of  this  modern  plea  for  the 
individual,"  Ma  Belle  exclaimed  vindictively.   The 
"When  stripped  of  sophistry  it  means  that 
the  individual  has  the  right  to  follow  every  gence 
selfish  desire  and  investigate  every  temptation 
to  get  out  of  it  all  there  is  in  it  for  him.  That 
is  what  most  people  mean  when  they  declare 
they  are  following  the  ideals  of  Goethe  and 
Browning  (and  for  which  they  ought  to  be  The 

sued  for  libel).     Such  people  seem  to  think 

needs  prun- 
that  the  individual  ought  to  be  developed  in  ing  rather 

every  way  except  along  the  line  of  responsi-   than  develop- 

Wld 

bility  to  others.    An  individuality  does  not 
235 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

need  developing,  it  needs  trimming  down  so 
that  it  will  fit  other  individuals  instead  of 
impaling  them." 

"Happy  thought ! "  cried  Hilda,  "each  of 
us  trimmed  down  to  a  hexagon  so  we  fit  like 
the  cells  of  a  honeycomb.  But,  Mrs.  Lee, 
where  would  the  fun  come  in  ?  " 

"Freedom  from  moral  and  physical  restraint 

A  new  is  not  what  you  are  pleased  to  call  <fun,7" 
definition  of  argued  ma  m^    «It  ^  only  by  being  in  bond. 

age  to  all  sorts  of  restraints  that  we  may  even 
recognize  l  fun '  when  we  meet  it.  License  is 
not  '  fun/  but  dodging  our  inevitable  responsi- 
bilities is  glorious  l fun7 ;  that  's  why  I  am  en- 
joying you  two  sirens  here  when  I  ought  to 
be  visiting  with  Emma." 

"Fun  is  the  nap  we  steal  after  the  rising 
bell  rings,"  said  Hilda  appreciatively.  Ma 
Belle  continued : 

"Being  good  is  not '  fun J ;  neither  is  being 

The  rapture  bad  '  fun '  j  but  trying  to  be  good  and  being 

of  the  broken^   bad   without  trying  solves  the  fun  problem 

for  ever  and  ever.     Freedom  is  tiresome  and 
commonplace  j  7t  is  the   broken  link  in  the 
chain  of  bondage  which  is  rapture." 
236 


A  NICE  AFTERNOON 

"  Ma  Belle,  I  am  convinced  you  have  done 
some  great  and  good  thing  for  Aunt  Emma. 
It  is  always  a  sign  you  have  been  busy  with 
good  works  when  you  make  cynical  remarks," 
I  declared  with  emphasis. 

"I  have  to  get  even  some  way/'  she 
answered  with  a  smile  that  to  me  is  the  most 
beautiful  smile  in  the  world.  "Truth  com- 
pels me  to  state  that  I  did  have  an  interview 
with  Emma  this  morning  wherein  I  gently 
but  firmly  called  her  attention  to  some  large 
facts.  She  is  so  concerned  with  the  pebbles 
in  her  path  that  she  gives  no  attention  to  the 
boulders  until  they  block  her  way  and  then 
she  sulks  and  feels  abused.  I  have  been 
dreading  this  interview  for  a  week." 

"  I  have  often  meditated  upon  the  fit 
moment  psychologically  for  doing  a  dis-  Tliefit 

agreeable  thing  »  remarked  Hilda  musingly.  mo^^fo 

a  dreaded 
"If  it  is  done  at  once  it  costs  a  terrible  wrench 

to  the  feelings  and  great  moral  effort,  and 
when  done  scarcely  affords  the  relief  it  might 
if  it  had  been  dreaded  for  a  longer  period. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  it  is  not  done  until  the 
last  possible  moment  one  gets  so  in  the  habit 
237 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

of  dreading  it  that  the  feeling  persists  long 
after.  There  must  be  a  right  time  some- 
where between  the  two  extremes." 

"It  requires  rare  judgment  to  elect  the 
moment ;  there  are  no  compensations  at  any 
time.  'Must '  is  master  and  no  reward  offered," 
rejoined  Ma  Belle  crisply. 

"If  I  were  to  start  life  anew,  I  should  never 
do  a  disagreeable  thing,  nor  experience  a  dis- 
agreeable sensation  if  I  could  help  it,"  I  de- 
clared with  positiveness. 

"A  flabbiness  would  result  which  would 
make  your  present  weak  amiability  seem  like 
cast  iron,"  said  Hilda. 

"Try  it  once :  just  scrupulously  avoid  all 
The  placid  the '  have  to's '  and  likewise  the  'want  to's  >  and 

space  lying  saij  aiong  placidly  in  the  easy  current  which 

between 
tt  have  to »  winds  between  these  outer  and  inner  man- 

and"want  dates.  This  would  be  far  better  than  the 
periodical  re-ossification  of  the  vertebral  col- 
umn which  you  practice  so  strenuously,"  said  I. 
"Marian,  you  are  mistaken  ;  Hilda  never 
needs  such  refurbishing,"  suggested  Ma  Belle, 
with  a  smile. 

"Little  do  you  know  about  it,  Mrs.  Lee  j 1 
238 


A  NICE  AFTERNOON 

need  it  this  minute.  You  would  both  be  hor- 
rified if  you  knew  how  weak  and  wabbly  I 
really  am,"  answered  Hilda,  soberly. 

Just  then  the  daily  token  from  Mr.  Morris 
appeared  in  the  guise  of  a  bunch  of  violets.  Malapropos 
Though  I  experienced  the  most  painful  embar-  vtolet8 
rassment,  I  was  on  guard  and  quite  uncon- 
cernedly placed  them  in  a  vase  on  the  table, 
saying  as  I  did  so  : 

"That  confession  of  yours,  Hilda,  affords 
me  supreme  comfort."  Ma  Belle  picked  up 
the  card  that  came  with  the  violets  and  re- 
marked : 

"It  seems  to  me,  Marian,  that  this  young 
man  is  a  most  devoted  admirer  of  yours."  I 
looked  straight  into  her  eyes  and  think  she 
understood  me  a  little  when  I  said,  "He  is 
here  at  the  house  so  much  with  Joe  that  I 
suppose  he  thinks  it  good  form  to  be  espe- 
cially polite  to  his  hostess."  She  answered 
with  a  laugh  : 

"I  was  trying  to  tease  you,  Marian  j  your 
accessibility   has    always   been   a  source  of  Squatter 
amusement  to  me.    You  are  like  government  sover*ignty 
land :  all  that  anyone  has  to  do  who  desires 
239 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN   IDOL 

you  for  a  friend  is  to  come  along  and  stake 
out  his  claim." 

"  That  is  true,"  I  admitted  with  some 
asperity,  "and  I  occasionally  experience  a 
squatter." 

Hilda  to  the       "I  think  Mr.  Morris  would   feel  greatly 
rescue  complimented  if  he  could  hear  this  conver- 
sation," said  Hilda,  with  pronounced  sarcasm. 

"It  is  my  private  opinion,  Hilda,"  I 
answered  dryly,  "that  he  would  not  care  a  rap 
about  this  conversation  or  any  other  of  which 
he  was  the  chief  topic.  In  all  my  life  I  have 
never  before  met  a  youth  who  is  so  little 
affected  by  things  outside  of  himself  as  is  this 
same  Theodore  Morris.  He  pursues  his  own 
path,  fixedly  and  undeviating  in  a  way  that 
is  appalling  to  witness." 

"It  seems  to  me  from  the  little  I  know  of 
him  that  he  is  quite  justified  in  so  doing," 
declared  Hilda,  belligerently.  I  was  surprised, 
and  I  think  Ma  Belle  was  also  a  little  startled ; 
but  I  cannot  hide  from  myself  that  I  was 
gratified  as  well  as  surprised.  In  thinking 
the  matter  over  I  am  at  loss  to  know  to  what 
to  attribute  this  defense  of  Hilda's  j  but  sooner 
240 


LOVE'S  INITIATION  FEE 

or  later  I  shall  discover  the  reason  for  it. 
People  tell  me  that  my  instincts  and  intui-  Intuition  or 
tions  are  marvelously  correct,  and  I  never  *  gm 
dispute  them.  But,  Own  Idol,  I  can  tell  you 
that  I  have  n't  in  my  possession  an  instinct  or 
an  intuition  worthy  the  name.  I  am  simply 
quick  to  observe,  and  I  bring  what  I  observe 
before  the  eyes  of  judgment,  and  finally  reach 
conclusions  which  are.  correct,  unless  they 
concern  myself.  I  have  no  judgment  what- 
ever in  assorting  and  defining  tlje  facts  I 
discover  about  myself.  I  have  always  sailed 
under  sealed  orders  ;  and  to-night  it  seems  to 
me  that  these  orders  were  taken  from  the 
grab-bag  of  the  Parcse  sisters. 

MARCH  I?TH  :— Do  you  know  that  we  really 

never  get  to  understand  people  unless  we  have  Love,  the 

a  chance  to  see  how  they  act  under  the  strain  Prestidivita>- 

tor 
and  stress  of  a  love  affair  ?    And  even  then 

we  understand  but  little.  I  have  ever  been  a 
close  student  of  Joe  all  his  life,  and  I  under- 
stand him  and  his  motives  and  his  emotions 
absolutely ;  and  yet  now  that  he  is  in  love  he 
seems  like  a  stranger  to  me.  On  his  affec- 
241 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

tionate  side  lie  has  always  been  sweet,  gentle 
and  leadable ;  now  that  he  loves  a  woman 
I  find  him  harsh  and  almost  cruel  in  his 
attitude  toward  her. 

Last  evening  after  he  came  home  from  the 
Joe  in  the  opera  whither  he  escorted  Dolly  Pease,  he 
tmls  confessed  to  me  his  love  for  Millie  Van  Tyne. 
I  was  somewhat  surprised,  for  if  Joe  and 
Millie  love  each  other  the  fact  has  not  been 
apparent  to  the  eye  of  the  public.  It  is  true 
that  they  quarrel  almost  constantly,  but 
quarreling  is  by  no  means  synonymous  with 
loving.  Joe  has  thought  he  was  in  love  at 
least  twice  before,  but  in  each  case  it  was  a 
gentle  and  sentimental  relationship,  with 
none  of  the  pepper  and  spice  in  it  which 
seems  to  have  characterized  this  affair  with 
Millie.  So  when  he  told  me  his  feelings  I  ex- 
pressed my  surprise  by  saying  : 

"  If  you  are  in  love  with  Millie,  what  in 
the  world  are- you  taking  Dolly  to  the  opera 
for?" 

"  It  is  a  good  thing  for  a  girl  who  thinks 
she  is  the  only  pebble  on  your  beach  to  learn 
that  there  may  be  yet  other  pebbles,"  he  an- 
swered with  a  superior  air. 
242 


LOVE'S  INITIATION  FEE 

"  True/'  agreed  I,    "  that    is    the    proper 
treatment   for   girls ;    it    keeps    them  from   The  proper 
tossing  their  heads  in  premature  pride   and  tre^tment  for 
spilling    their  milk  like    the  milk-maid  of  *ai 
whom  our  ancestors  were  wont  to  read  in  their 
spelling  books." 

"  I  do  not  know  much  about  milk-maids 
but  I  know  a  few  things  about  fair  maids  ;  in 
fact,  one  or  two  of  them  have  taught  me 
lessons  which  I  trust  I  do  not  need  to  learn 
twice;"  he  answered  morosely. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  I,  "  I  am  glad  to  see 
that  you  have  not  lost  your  head  even  if  you 
have  lost  your  heart.  But  I  must  confess  I 
shall  have  more  faith  in  your  love  for  Millie 
when  you  become  a  little  more  humble  in 
spirit." 

"  I  shall  never  be  humble  with  her  !    Why, 
Marnie,  when  she  teases  me  and  quarrels  with   Ttie  method  of 
me  as  she  so  constantly  does  I  feel  like  putting  l  ^^      f 
both  arms  around  her  and  crushing  the  life 
out  of  her  to  punish  her  and  make  her  keep 
still." 

"  I  am  not  sure  but  your  instinct  is  right," 
I  admitted,  "  she  is  a  girl  who  needs  heroic 
treatment." 

243 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  She  is  going  to  get  it,"  he  replied  curtly, 
and  his  beautiful  finely  chiselled  lips  set  in 
a  hard  straight  line  which,  at  once,  made  me 
Millie's  stanch  ally.  I  hope  she  will  lead 
him  a  breathless  chase  and  bring  him  to  his 
knees  in  the  end.  I  know  what  is  good  for 
him  even  if  he  is  my  own  boy. 

MARCH     18TH :— By    the    way,     Uncurious 

Pardonable  One,  I  wonder  if  you  know  that  ever  since 

curiosity  T  Morris  toia  me  so  calmly  that  he  had  had 

many  love  affairs,  I  have  always  wished  to 
know  the  particulars.  Not  that  I  care  about 
the  persons  concerned,  or  the  stories  thereof, 
but  I  am  dying  of  curiosity  to  know  just 
what  he  would  say  about  these  experiences. 
I  am  not  so  naive  as  to  ask  him  to  talk  about 
them,  but  several  times  I  have  made  it  per- 
fectly easy  for  him  to  do  so,  by  alluding 
rather  teasingly  to  his  frittered  affections. 
But  the  effectual  way  he  puts  up  the  sign, 
"  No  trespass,"  is  only  equalled  by  the  way  he 
No  avoids  trespassing  on  my  own  preserves. 
trespassing  Mayke  he  believes  that  at  my  age  there  is  no 
grass  left  because  of  the  many  foot  paths 
244 


LOVE'S  INITIATION  FEE 

through  it  j  it  would  be  just  like  his  callow 
superciliousness  to  think  so.  This  may  all  be 
enigmatical  to  you,  Mr.  Idol,  but  it  is  quite 
luminous  with  meaning  to  me. 


245 


CHAPTER  XXI 

SACK-CLOTH  AND  ASHES 

"ARCH  24TH :— If  I  did  not  have  you, 
I  would  naturally  confess  to  the  flames 
Flame  which  lap  up  the  offerings  of  wood  which  I 
fascination  pjace  nightly  upon  my  hearth.  I  wonder  if 
it  is  the  darting  fire-tongues  which  hold  me 
spellbound  while  life  and  its  perplexities  ebb 
away,  leaving  nothing  thinkable  or  dreamable 
in  their  place,  or  is  it  something  more  subtle  ? 
Time  thus  spent  is  not  measured  by  moments 
nor  hours  nor  even  by  eternity.  It  comes 
nearer  Nirvana  than  anything  else  vouch- 
safed to  us  mortals  of  the  Occident. 

I  have  spent  such  an  evening  alone  before 
Upsetting  the  my  fire  and  have  just  watched  the  embers  turn 
temper-box  from  glow  to    gray.     It   has   been    the  only 
happy  part  of  my  day.     I  have  been  ill  and 
not  very  patient,  any  little  annoyance  up- 
setting my  temper-box  and  giving  my  en- 
246 


SACK-CLOTH  AND  ASHES 

viromnent  a  hot  sprinkle.     Duties  undone— 

the  letters  I  ought  to  have  written,  the  work   The  neurotic 

I  ought   to  have  accomplished,  the  word   I  Ori9in  °f 

conscience 
ought  to  have  said,  the  deeds  I  ought  to  have 

performed,  all  of  these  have  hung  over  me 
to-day  like  a  black  cloud,  shutting  out  all 
vision  of  blue  sky.  Yet  my  sins  of  omission 
are  no  greater  to-day  than  they  were  last 
week  when  I  was  serene  and  cheerful.  There 
is  a  weird  connection  between  con- 
science and  disordered  nerves  that  makes  the 
outlook  for  the  origin  of  conscience  rather 
dubious. 

I  realize  I  have  been  mighty  inhospitable 
in  spirit  of  late  toward  the  world  at  large  ;  I  Ashes  mis- 
have  ceased  to  be  an  organ  with  the  vox 
humana  stop  in  working  order  ;  although  it  is 
true  that  I  have  treated  most  people  around 
me  with  a  decency  becoming  to  that  arch- 
hypocrite,  the  altruist.  So  I  have  been 
indulging  in  sack-cloth  and  ashes  as  is  fitting 
for  a  sinner  in  Lent ;  and  I  feel  that  I  shall 
adopt  a  permanent  costume  of  sack-cloth 
and  a  permanent  diet  of  ashes.  Please  do  not 
interrupt  me  by  stating  that  ashes  are  not 
247 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

for  eating ;  it  matters  not  whether  they  are 
for  outer  or  inner  application.  I  know  the 
taste  of  ashes  perfectly,  and  I  also  know 
where  the  sack -cloth  abrades  the  flesh. 

Ma  Belle  is  out  of  town,  and  Hilda  has 

Inconsistent  given  me  but  brief  moments  of  light  during 

longings   the  long  four  days  of  my  niness.     The  house, 

except  this  my  own  room,  is  overflowing  with 
the  flowers  which  Theodore  Morris  has  sent. 
I  would  have  none  of  them  in  sight ;  I  felt 
too  cross  to  look  at  them.  I  have  longed  for 
some  sign  of  sympathy  from  another  source 
and  have  been  cast  down  and  miserable  be- 
cause I  did  not  get  it.  It  is  strange  how  our 
longings  of  the  moment  distort  our  perspec- 
tive. I  ought  to  be  glad  that  this  sign  has 
been  denied  me,  considering  the  port  to  which 
I  am  drifting. 

MARCH  25TH  :— I  have  felt  very  much  better 
to-day  and  took  luncheon  with  the  family. 
But  when  Mr.  Morris  called,  I  sent  word  that 
I  was  not  able  to  see  him  5  the  bouquet  of 
sweet  peas  in  front  of  your  tiny  feet  was  his 
response. 

248 


SACK-CLOTH  AND  ASHES 

Late    in    the    afternoon    Tom    called.    I 
meditated  on  the  question  as  to  whether  I  A  difference 
ought  to  go  down  at  all ;  and  if  I  did  conclude  in  tke  treat~ 

ment  of 

to  go  whether  I  should  wear  the  black  robe  catters 
I  had  on  or  don  a  new  lavender  tea-gown  of 
a  most  beguiling  pattern.  Then  I  called  my- 
self an  idiot,  and  snatching  a  few  pink  pea 
blossoms  for  the  throat  of  my  gown,  I  hurried 
down  stairs.  Tom  came  forward  to  meet  me 
and  said  quite  anxiously  : 

"I  did  not  know  you  had  been  ill  until 
an  hour  ago." 

"I  have  been  ill  for  months,"  I  asserted 
reproachfully.  "I  have  been  so  ill  that  I  even  Obsequies 
went  so  far  as  to  plan  my  own  funeral,  and  worse  than 
that  is  far  worse  than  dying.  I  can  think  of 
confronting  my  recording  angel  with  equani- 
mity, and  of  my  possible  or  even  probable 
future  state  with  composure ;  but  when  I 
contemplate  my  own  funeral,  my  heart  quails. 
And  this  time  one  of  the  poignant  discom- 
forts of  the  situation  was  that  you  would 
probably  learn  of  the  obsequies  first  through 
the  daily  paper." 

"The  moral  of  which  is?" 
249 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"That  yon  stay  away  from  your  friends  too 
much." 

"I  have  been  so  confoundedly  busy  of  late 
Rude  treat-  that  I  stand  George  Washington  on  his  head 

mentfor  the  every  time  I  put  a  stamp  on  an  envelope.  I 

Father  of 
his  country  am  in  sucn  a  hurry,  a  summary  treatment 

which  makes  him  obviously  red  in  the  face," 
answered  Tom  with  an  apologetic  laugh  ;  then 
he  continued,  soberly,  "By  Jove  !  it  is  awful 
the  way  this  inevitable  old  world  works  itself 
in  between  friends  with  its  wedges  of  work 
and  care,  driving  them  in  by  the  impact  of 
busy  hours." 

"Yes,  and  there  is  a  certain  expedient  in- 
difference that  comes  between  friends  which 
is  unnatural  and  horrible  like  some  monster 
with  gnarled,  twisted  limbs  and  leer-eyed." 

"So  long  as  it  is  not  green-eyed  we  need 
not  fear,"  answered  he  with  a  laugh. 

"You  are  mistaken,  sir,  the  green-eyed 
The  green-  monster  is  far  less  to  be  feared,  for  it  is  never 

eyed  com-  bom  of  indifference." 
pared  with 

other       "You  make  me  feel  complimented  by  im- 

monsters  plying  that  you  have  missed  me." 

"Why  should  n't  I  miss  you?  "  I  asked  with 
250 


SACK-CLOTH  AND  ASHES 

asperity.  "  Ma  Belle  is  away,  Hilda  is  busy, 
and  Joe  and  father  are  here  only  at  meals, 
and  you  have  shown  no  sign  that  you  were 
aware  of  my  existence.  I  have  felt  abused 
and  lonesome.'7 

"I  met  a  beautiful  young  man  turning  his 
steps  hither  this  afternoon,"  he  said  teasingly. 

"  Then  you  have  seen  more  than  I  have," 
I  returned  boldly,  "  for  no  beautiful  young 
man  has  crossed  my  range  of  vision." 

"  His  flowers  had  better  luck  than  he, 
then,"  quoth  Tom,  significantly  glancing  at 
my  sweet  peas. 

"  Because  I  hastily  adorned  myself  with  the 
nearest  thing  at  hand  so  I  should  not  look  so  The  way  of  a 

much  like  a  disturbed  ghost  when  I  came  woman  with 

flowers 
down  to  see  you,  please  do  not  make  me  feel 

foolish,"  said  I,  slipping  out  of  the  corner  into 
which  he  had  pushed  me. 

"  Cruel  woman,  to  wear  one  man's  flowers 
to  make  yourself  beautiful  in  another  man's 
eyes ! " 

"  True,  the  ways  of  a  woman  with  flowers 
be  strange  !     Oh,  please  stop  teasing,  and  let  Js 
talk  about  things  that  are  worth  while." 
251 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  I  saw  a  '  glue  bird  and  a  wobbin ' 
to-day/'  he  quoted. 

"  Tell  me  where  and  what  they  were 
doing." 

"  The  blue  bird  was  singing  a  querly  note 

Things  worth  from  the  apple  tree  and  the  robin  was  dancing 

w**k  a  glide  on  the  lawn.    And  it  is  time  you  were 

well  and  went  walking  with  me  to  the  woods 

on  South  Hill  to  find  if  any  hepaticas  have 

dared  yet  to  lift  their  heads." 

And  then  we  had  a  real  and  happy  visit, 
and  I  was  greatly  cheered  by  it,  and  am  not  a 
bit  ashamed  to  own  it. 

APRIL  TTH  :— It  is  two  weeks  since  I  told  you 
A  fugue  things,  is  n't  it?    The  fact  is,  I  am  so  per- 

instead  of  plexed  tbat  j  nad  rather  forget  than  confess. 
a  symphony 

My  self -song  has  become  a  theme  for  a  fugue 

when  I  long  to  have  it  made  into  a  symphony ; 
it  simply  repeats  over  and  over  with  infinite 
variations  the  same  tedious  questions. 

Too  much  of  my  time  is  given  to  T.  M. 

He  comes  and  I  do  not  know  how  to  send  him 

away— or   else  I  do  not  wish  to.     He  often 

makes  violent  love  to  me,  but  almost  as  often 

252 


SACK-CLOTH  AND  ASHES 

sits  wrapped  in  gloom  like  an  invisible  cloak. 
Occasionally  I  have  sane  moments  and  see    Wings  or 
things  as  they  are.     Methinks  Titania  now  ears 
and  then  must  have  gotten  a  distinct  view  of 
Bottom's  ears  ;  and  in  her  heart  of  hearts  must 
have  acknowledged  that  they  were  bona  fide 
ears ;  and  even  thinking  of  how  long  and  silky 
they    were    did  not  entirely    reassure  her. 
Alas,  that  I,  too,  should  be  studying  ears  and 
trying  to  make  them  seem  like  wings ! 


253 


A1 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  SPRINGTIME  MADNESS 

PRIL  10TH  :— Do  you  realize  that  spring 
has    come  ?     Do   your  innermost  teak 
The  spring  particles  vibrate  to  the  sounds  of  revivified 

song  of  the  kejng  f     There  is  a  peculiar  unction  to  the 
trolley 

uproll  of  your  eyes  which  leads  me  to  infer 

that  you,  like  the  rest  of  us,  are  ready  to  stop 
existing  and  begin  living.  Tom  came  this 
afternoon  to  take  me  for  the  promised 
tramp  for  hepaticas.  As  he  came  in,  he 
found  father  and  myself  on  the  porch  in  a 
sunny  corner  and  he  greeted  us  with  : 

"  It  is  so  obviously  and  enthusiastically 
spring  time  to-day  that  I  have  had  to  exert  self- 
control  to  keep  from  drinking  the  bottle  of 
green  ink  on  my  desk.  Even  the  trolley  is 
singing  a  spring  song,  just  listen  to  it ! " 

"  I  never  suspected  a  trolley  car  of  senti- 
ment before,"  said  father. 
254 


THE  SPRINGTIME  MADNESS 

"  Which  goes  to  prove  that  we  are  likely 
to  misunderstand  our  nearest  neighbors  and 
most  familiar  associates,"  I  suggested. 

"  I,    too,    have    succumbed   to  the  day," 
admitted  father  shame-facedly.     "  I  went  this  More  spring 
morning    and    purchased    some   implements  madn€SS 
which  look  like  agricultural  tools   afflicted 
with  paresis,  and  as  soon  as  I  can  recovei 
from  the  self-consciousness  induced  by  the 
purchase  I  shall  hie  me  hence  and  learn  to 
play  golf." 

"  It  is  the  spring  madness !  There  is  no 
foretelling  what  form  it  may  take  !"  rejoined 
Tom  comfortingly.  Then,  turning  to  me, 
"  Madam  Marian,  there  are  some  pinky  posies 
on  the  south  exposure  of  South  Hill,  come 
and  help  me  pick  them." 

We  left  father  to  the  rueful  contemplation 
of  his  new  enterprise  and  were  soon  beyond 
the  bounds  of  our  little  city.  As  we  climbed 
the  fence  which  separates  the  pasture  from 
the  woodland,  Tom  said : 

"  Jove  !  Listen  to  that  robin  once.  Are  n't 
his  remarks  pat  <? "  A  robin's 

"  What  does  he  say  t " 
255 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  Are  you  deaf,  Marian  ?  Does  lie  not  say 
plainly,  (  Here  you  are,  here  you  are,  sweet, 
sweet,  sweet.'  I  don't  wonder  the  little 
beggar  blushes." 

"That  is  a  polite  translation  of  yours,"  I  an- 
swered gayly,  "and  it  is  true,  too,  for  here  we 
are  and  it  is  surely  sweet,"  and  I  stooped  to 
pluck  the  downy  stem  of  a  hepatica  blossom. 

"Why  don't  the  sculptors  use  hepatica 
The  Hepatica  leaves  for  their  cornices  and  capitals!"  asked 

instead  of  the  T        picking  one  of  the  purple-brown  leaves. 
Acanthus 

"I  never  touch  the  soft  stem  of  this  posy 

without  thinking  of  baby  fingers,"  I  answered 
irrelevantly. 

"And  you  have  never  ceased  to  mourn  her 
loss  during  all  these  years !  "  Tom  stood  on  a 
knoll  looking  down  at  me  wistfully  as  he  asked 
this  question  j  meanwhile  the  robin  sang 
"sweet,  sweet,  sweet." 

"I  have  always  missed  her— and  have  al- 
ways loved  her,"  I  answered  steadily. 

"You  have  always  been  a  spendthrift  of 

A  spendthrift  love.    Have  you  no  fears  of  being  beggared  ? " 

of  love  Then  without  waiting  for  a  reply  he  went  on  : 

"God !  what  hostages  we  have  to  give  if  we 

256 


THE  SPKINGTIME  MADNESS 

truly  live.     I  often  wonder  how  we  dare  to 
love  at  all." 

"Loving  is  not  based  upon  daring,"  I  re- 
monstrated. 

"Sometimes  it  is,"  lie  muttered. 

"Love  is  worth  all  it  costs,"  I  said  firmly. 

"You  are  brave  to  say  so.  We  set  our  little 
lights  upon  the  hill,  but  how  little  we  shine 
compared  with  what  we  suffer." 

"And  yet  there  are  those  who  believe  that 
suffering  may  be  conserved  in  shining  !     But  The  radiant 
we  came  out  to  be  happy  and  care  free,  and  eneroy  °f 

suffering 

here  we  are  roiling  up  the  deeps.  Queer, 
is  n't  it,  how  conquered  emotions  have  recru- 
descence on  the  most  malapropos  occasions?  " 
"Good  Heaven,  yes  !  And  when  one  goes  on 
year  after  year  with  eyes  always  blinded  by 
the  smoke  of  battle,  it  is  rather  appalling  to 
contemplate  the  number  and  variety  of  sub- 
dued emotions  which  are  likely  to  haunt  one's 
path.  The  other  night  after  hearing  that 
tragedy  so  superbly  played,  I  thought  how 
terrible  and  tragic  on  the  stage  are  sin  and 
death  and  the  aching  heart,  and  how  trivial 
and  commonplace  they  are  in  real  life." 
257 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"It  is  because  on  the  stage  we  see  them  in 
Seal  life  not  true  perspective  ;   but  while  living  them  we 

properly         h  our         through  blindly,  feeling  all,  but 
staged 

seeing  and  understanding  only  a  little  of  the 

deeper  relation  of  our  experience  to  the  moral 
world.  We  are  at  too  close  range  for  true 
perspective.  Ah,  here  is  a  crimson  cup  ! "  I 
exclaimed,  as  I  lifted  from  its  bed  of  leaves  a 
decayed  branch  which  bore  a  delicate  flesh- 
A  fairy  colored  crimson-lined  peziza  cup.  "I  never 
beaker  G0l^^  ^e  maae  to  believe  that  this  is  a  fungus  ; 
I  still  hold  my  childish  belief  that  it  is  a  fairy 
beaker.  I  promise  you  if  you  will  drink  from 
this  you  will  experience  enchantment." 

"I  am  too  old  for  enchantment,"  he  de- 
murred. 

"You  are  not  too  old ! "  I  asserted  indig- 
nantly. 

"I  am  getting  to  be  reverend  in  spots,"  he 
maintained. 

"They  are  so  few  and  far  between  they  do 
not  affect  the  ensemble,"  I  declared,  and  thus 
our  talk  drifted  to  trivialities  as  we  turned 
our  steps  homeward  with  our  treasures  from 
woodland. 

258 


'*  Confessor,  I  wish  I  knew  whether  it  is  something  or  nothing  that 
I  sometimes  see  in  Tom's  eyes  " 


THE  SPRINGTIME  MADNESS 

Confessor,   I  wish    I   knew  whether  it   is 
something  or  nothing  that  I  sometimes  see  in  Something  or 
Tom's  eyes.     If  it  is  something,  it  is  tanta-  nothin9 
lizingly  elusive  ;  if  it  is  nothing,  I  have  wasted 
too  much  time  trying   to  make   something 
of  it.     Life  would  indeed  be   dull  without 
enigmas,  and  this  one  is  likely  to  remain  a 
perennial  source  of  interest. 


259 


CHAPTEE  XXIII 

THE  IMPATIENCE  OF    MR.   MORRIS  LEADS  TO 
A  CHANGE  IN  CONFESSORS 


M 


•AY  25TH :— I  have  been  sitting  in  the 
window-seat  for  an  hour,  listening  to 
Some  things  the  flood  of  waters  in  the  ravine.  The  mur- 
unlike  water  mur  Qf  flowi  water  affects  me  differently  at 
cannot  go  on 

forever  different  times.    Sometimes  I  could  worship 

water  because  it  flows  on  forever,  and  some- 
times I  hate  it  because  it  flows  on  forever. 

One  thing  is  borne  in  upon  me  at  the  pres- 
ent moment,  and  that  is  I  cannot  go  on  for- 
ever with  Theodore  Morris  as  I  have  been 
going  on  of  late.  I  must  decide  soon ;  and 
I  am  much  farther  from  a  decision  than  I 
was  on  that  highly  entertaining  evening 
after  the  opera,  when  he  declared  his  unsus- 
pected and  undesired  love.  The  fact  that  I 
am  so  much  farther  away  from  a  decision  is 
260 


A  CHANGE  IN  CONFESSORS 

what  alarms  me.  It  shows  how  far  I  have 
been  swept  beyond  the  right  landing  by  the 
current  of  his  will  and  desire. 

He  seems  to  have  changed  greatly  during 
the  past  two  months.     From  being  calm  and   A  melancholy 
superior,  he  has  become  moody,  taciturn  and  influ€nce 
gloomy.     If  this  is  the  result  of  loving  me,  he 
will  probably  be  reduced  to  melancholia  if  I 
marry  him— which  is  a  flippant  remark  about 
a  most  serious  matter,  Most  Solemn  Image. 

To-night  I  experienced  a  highly  dramatic 
moment  that  makes  me  shiver  when  I  think  A  civilized 

of  it.     There  were  several  people  here  for  the 

duo  Ding 

evening  and  we  had  had  much  music.  T.  M. 
lingered  after  the  others  had  gone  and  fol- 
lowed me  to  the  door,  where  I  had  given 
Hilda  into  the  quite  obviously  devoted  care 
of  Phil.  Schlegel,  who  is  with  her  much  of 
late.  We  stood  on  the  porch  and  watched 
the  two  disappear  down  the  walk,  PhiFs  tall 
form  bending  gallantly  above  Hilda  as  if  she 
had  warped  him  in  her  direction.  There 
were  chairs  on  the  porch  and  the  night  was 
warm,  so  I  proposed  that  we  sit  for  a  little 
while.  He  neither  accepted  my  invitation 
261 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

nor  allowed  me  to  seat  myself ;  instead,  he 
took  my  hands  in  his  usual  masterly  way,  and 
for  the  first  time  addressed  me  by  my  given 
name,  which  intimidated  me  more  than  I 
would  be  willing  to  have  him  know.  It  was 
a  civilized  and  polite  way  of  clubbing  me 
into  silence  and  obedience. 

"  Marian,  are  you  never  going  to  give  me 
my  answer  ?  "  he  asked  hoarsely. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  have  ever  asked  me 
for  an  answer,"  I  replied,  parrying. 

"  Every  day  I  have  asked  it,"  he  continued 

A  dramatic  impetuously.     "  A   thousand   times  I  have 

moment  asked  -t .  j  naye  watched  and  waited  for  it 

through  the  interminable  days  of  long  months. 
Cannot  you  see  that  I  am  miserable  and 
wretched  and  am  wearing  out  under  the 
stress  of  waiting  ?  I  think  you  do  not  under- 
stand how  much  I  need  your  love  just  now. 
It  would  prove  my  salvation  and  strength  in 
ways  of  which  you  do  not  dream  j  Marian,  do 
not  keep  me  waiting  longer !" 

As  he  grew  more  vehement  and  his  agita- 
tion  became  more    apparent,  I  waxed  cool 
and  self-possessed.    My  hands  were  still  in 
262 


A  CHANGE  IN  CONFESSORS 

his  grasp,  but  they  were  passive  and  unrespons- 
ive while  I  answered  him  : 

"  I  have  not  given  you  my  decision,  Theo- 
dore, because  I  have  not  known  my  own 
mind.  Be  patient  with  me  for  a  little  while 
yet !  I  am  sorry  that  you  must  suffer  and  wait, 
but  I  am  trying  to  be  true  to  myself  and  to 
you.  I  promise  you  an  answer  very  soon." 
My  voice  was  calm  and  soothing  but  his 
trembled  as  he  answered : 

"  Heaven  help  you  to  decide  aright !  I 
will  never  again  be  so  weak  and  childishly  Help  from 

impatient."     Then  he  bade  me  good-night  above 

much  needed 
and  went  his  way,  leaving  me  to  think  again 

how  different  he  is  from  what  he  formerly 
was.  Two  months  ago  I  could  have  pre- 
dicted that  his  answer  would  have  been: 
"  There  is  but  one  way  to  decide— you  are 
mine  and  you  do  love  me."  Instead  of  which 
he  says,  "  Heaven  help  you  to  decide  aright." 
I  suppose  you  must  have  noticed,  "Wise 
Confessor,  that  from  first  to  last  this  man  has  Not  enough  of 
been  beyond  my  comprehension.  Life  with  comfortable 
him  would  have  too  little  of  the  comfort  of 
monotony,  I  fear.  And  I  think  you  will 
263 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

agree  that  an  aged  lady  of  my  habits  had  best 
not  embark  on  a  voyage  that  is  likely  to  be 
tempestuous,  with  nothing  to  steer  by  except 
a  demagnetized  compass  which  has  evidently 
lost  its  hold  on  the  pole  star  entirely. 

I  have  just  come  to  a  conclusion,  which  I 
A  confessor  am  sure  is  a  good  one.  I  will  go  to  Ma  Belle 
with  a  heart  with  the  whole  matter  perf^s  she  in  her 
^nstead  of  a 

wisdom,  can  set  me  straight.    What  though 

I  was  the  wife  of  her  only  son !  She  will 
meet  the  question  without  prejudice.  Ma 
Belle  has  the  tender  heart  of  a  woman,  but 
she  regards  things  impersonally,  like  a  wise 
man ;  she  will  consider  my  problem  as  ab- 
stractly as  if  she  had  never  seen  me  before, 
and  as  vitally  as  if  I  were  her  own  daughter. 
You  have  been  very  good  to  confess  to,  Idol, 
but  that  unimpaired  grin  of  yours  has 
irritated  me  a  little  of  late.  I  shall  prob- 
ably come  back  to  you  again  as  soon  as  you 
will  wish  to  see  me,  for  I  think  you  are  get- 
ting a  little  tired  of  me,  as  well. 


264 


CHAPTEE  XXIV 
MA  BELLE'S  STORY 

MAY  30TH  :— Dear  Confessor,  I  think  if  I 
did  not  have  you  to  turn  to  to-night  I 
should  be  lost.  I  will  try  to  give  you  that 
conversation  with  Ma  Belle  which  occurred 
yesterday,  word  for  word  j  and  perhaps  thus 
I  may  come  to  a  different  conclusion  from 
that  forced  upon  me  at  the  time. 

I  found  her  radiant  in  a  white  gown  with  a 
bunch  of  lilies- of-the- valley  on  her  bosom.  Ma  Belle's 

She  prolongs  the  season  of  these,  her  favorite  leloved 

flowers 
flowers  ;  and  always  wears  them  from  the  first 

daring  bloom  of  April  to  the  last  lingering 
blossom  of  June.  I  did  not  wait  for  formali- 
ties, but  said  to  her  at  once  : 

"  Ma  Belle,  I  am  in  trouble  and  I  need 
you.  When  can  you  talk  to  me  ?  " 

"  Come  with  me  to  my  room,"  she  an- 
swered, giving  me  a  keen  glance  that  was 
265 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

like  an  X-ray  turned  upon  my  inner  turmoil. 
Ma  Belle's  room  is  like  herself,  restful.  The 
prevailing  color  in  it  is  heavenly  blue,  yet 
there  is  no  one  thing  which  displays  this 
color  obtrusively  ;  it  is  like  being  enfolded  in 
a  bit  of  sky  to  enter  the  room.  She  placed 
me  in  an  easy  chair,  bolted  the  door  and 
seated  herself  at  my  side.  She  knew  in- 
stinctively that  looking  me  in  the  face  would 
disconcert  me. 

fl  I  do  not  know  where  to  begin,"  I  fal- 
tered. 

"  Begin  in  the  middle,'7  she  suggested 
A  good  place  practically,  and  I  felt  helped;  but  my  voice 
to  begin  was  hoarse  with  terror  when  I  finally  said  : 

"  My  trouble  is  an  absurd  one  ;  the  simple 
fact  is  Theodore  Morris  has  been  foolish 
enough  to  fall  in  love  with  me  and  rash 
enough  to  insist  that  I  shall  marry  him." 

"  All  of  which  goes  to  show  that  Mr. 
Morris  is  a  young  man  of  excellent  taste,  to 
fall  in  love  with  and  wish  to  marry  the  most 
entrancing  little  woman  in  the  whole  world," 
she  answered  affectionately  and  as  reassur- 
ingly as  if  it  were  a  merely  commonplace  in- 
266 


MA  BELLE'S  STOKY 

stead  of  a  monstrous  fact  that  I  was  telling 

to  her.     After  a  moment  of  silence  she  went   This  world  a 

on,    «  Marian.  I   have  been   surprised   that  $lacefor 

living  loves 
you  have  not  married  again,  and  I  hope  you 

have  understood  me  well  enough  to  believe 
that  I  should  always  be  happy  in  your  hap- 
piness. You  were  a  good  wife  to  Paul  j  but 
this  world  is  a  place  for  living  loves  rather 
than  for  those  that  are  dead.  While  we 
stay  here  it  is  right  that  we  live  strongly  and 
completely,  and  if  I  could  have  my  choice  I 
would  prefer  to  see  you  happily  married. 
But  tell  me,  what  does  the  heart  of  my  little 
girl  say  to  the  demands  of  this  young  man  !  " 
She  so  rarely  calls  me  her  "  little  girl "  that 
I  felt  at  once  the  support  of  her  tenderness, 
and  I  turned  and  faced  her  as  I  answered : 

"  Honestly,  I  do  not  know.  He  is  a  power- 
ful man  and  a  masterly,  interesting  lover; 
and  I  have  been  more  or  less  carried  away 
from  my  moorings  by  him.  But  Ma  Belle, 
what  do  you  think  of  a  woman  marrying  a 
man  twelve  years  her  junior?  It  seems  to 
me  preposterous  and  unthinkable.  Did  you  Tlie  age 

ever   hear   of     anything  so  foolish?"     She 

again 
smiled  brightly,  as  she  answered : 

267 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  Marian,  I  have  discovered  that  the  modern 

The  modern  Lorelei  may  have  silver  hair   and    a  silver 

Lorelei   CQml)  with  wnick  slie    seems   to    be    able    to 

lure  innocent  young  sailors  to  an  untimely 
landing.  It  takes  a  weird  philosophy  to 
account  for  the  vagaries  of  the  human  heart ; 
therefore  I  cannot  explain  why  in  these  de- 
generate days,  certain  young  men  seem  to 
find  most  attractive  the  women  who  have 
lived  and  known.  The  girl  of  sixteen  which 
so  dominated  the  novels  of  my  youth  is  sel- 
dom heard  of  now  ;  and  although  the  present 
day  novelist  has  not  yet  developed  the  hardi- 
hood to  weave  a  romance  about  the  youth  of 
twenty  and  the  woman  of  forty,  yet  the  situ- 
ation is  common  enough  and  certainly  has 
in  it  dramatic  possibilities." 

"  How  do  you  explain  such  unnatural 
social  phenomena  ? "  I  interrupted.  She 
answered  slowly  and  thoughtfully  : 

"  I  have  thought  about  it  much,  and  the  only 

Wisdom  vs.  explanation  I  can  find  is  that  youth  and  beauty 

innocence  no  ionger  satisfy  a  certain  type  of  young  man 

who  may  be  found  in  numbers  to-day.     He 

prefers  wisdom    to  innocence  j  maturity  to 

268 


MA  BELLE'S  STORY 

beauty;  eyes  that  see  through,  him  rather 
than  those  which  gaze  at  him  in  adoration. 
Kuby  lips  offer  to  him  but  slight  attraction 
compared  to  lips  which  utter  clever  things ; 
and  above  all  a  man  likes  to  be  mothered  by 
the  woman  he  loves,  and  that  undoubtedly 
accounts  for  much. 

"Then,  too,  a  man  does  not  keep  his  different 
kinds  of  loving  as  distinct  as  does  a  woman.  A  man's  loves 

She  knows  her  own  heart ;  and  if  she  regards  not  weU 

classified 
a  man  with  daughterly,  sisterly  or  friendly 

affection,  she  does  not  confuse  it  with  love. 
But  a  man  never  forgets  that  he  is  a  man, 
and  the  moment  his  heart  is  open  toward  a 
woman,  the  sex  relation  intrudes  itself 
whether  it  has  any  right  to  or  not.  A 
man  is  too  much  dominated  by  sex  conscious- 
ness to  be  able  to  discriminate  clearly." 

"Then  you  believe  it  unsafe  to  depend  up- 
on the  love  of  a  man  so  much  younger ! "  I 
interrupted. 

"I  will  not  say  that,  because  I  have  known 
many  instances  where  it  has  proved  as  firm  Begging  the 
as  a  rock   for   the   foundation  of  a   happy 
married  life.    It  depends  upon  the  character 
269 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

of  the  man  and  of  the  woman,  which  is  beg- 
ging the  question." 

"What  then  do  you  think  of  Mr.  Morris 
and  me  as  candidates  for  such  a  marriage  f  " 
I  demanded  bluntly. 

Ma  Belle  arose  with  distinct  agitation  and 
went  over  to  the  window  and  stood  there 
looking  out,  while  her  hands  clasped  and  un- 
clasped nervously ;  after  a  time  she  came  back 
and  standing  before  me  said  with  obvious 
effort : 

"Marian,  dear  child,  I  cannot  help  you  by 

Ma  Belle's  deciding  for  you  ,•  but  if  my  own  experience 

story  win  ^ip  yOU^  vou  skau  kave  ^     I  will  tell 

you  what  I  thought  never  to  tell  to  any  one. 
You  shall  know  my  judgment  about  my  own 
life,  and  perhaps  that  will  help  you." 

"Do  not  tell  me  if  it  hurts  you  to  do  it,"  I 
cried. 

"Yes,  Marian,  I  owe  it  to  you  to  tell  you, 
and  I  shall  tell  you  even  though  it  hurts. 
You  are  so  dear  to  me,  so  truly  my  own  child 
that  my  experience  belongs  to  you,  and  you 
shall  get  what  of  help  it  affords."  We  were 
silent  for  a  moment,  then  she  began : 
270 


MA  BELLE'S  STORY 

"I  am  supposed  to  approve  of  marriage ; 
but  if  serene  happiness  were  the  only  thing  A  well 

worth  while  in  life  I  should  certainly  never  lalanced 

ration  for 
advise  anybody  to  get  married.     However,  mankind 

as  a  well  balanced  ration  of  joy,  care  and  pain 
seem  the  best  nourishment  for  the  growth  of 
the  human  soul,  I  can  conscientiously  recom- 
mend marriage  as  a  'good  provider.'  You 
know  that  I  was  left  a  widow  when  Paul  was 
ten  years  old.  My  married  life  had  not  been 
a  very  happy  one ;  Paul's  father  was  a 
brilliant  man  and  not  a  bad  one,  but  he  had 
feelings  instead  of  judgment.  Though  I  put 
my  best  abilities  to  the  task,  I  could  never 
predict  what  he  would  do  or  desire  next.  I  Marriage 
soon  grew  to  humor  him  as  if  he  were  a  child,  compromises 
and  in  that  attitude  lay  all  the  possibilities 
for  happiness  in  our  married  life.  I  believe 
he  was  as  happy  with  me  as  he  could  have 
been  with  anyone,  nor  do  I  believe  that  he 
missed  the  respect  and  honor  which  I  would 
have  so  gladly  given  him. 

"When  all  was   over,  I  found  that  I  had 
relied  on  myself  so  long,  and  so  little  on  him 
that  I  took  up  the  duties  of  life  alone  with  no 
271 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

special  effort.  I  devoted  myself  to  the  rear- 
Tlie  length  of  ing  and  education  of  Paul,  and  you  know  the 
ear  '  rest.  I  need  not  have  lived  alone,  Marian,  for 
good  men  and  true  have  loved  me  and  have 
shown  it  by  their  lives.  The  heart-cycle  is 
ordinarily  not  very  extended  and  I  am  bound 
to  admit  that  the  heart  masculine  is  a  swift 
repeater ;  but,  Marian,  two  men  whom  I 
honor  have  remained  single  because  of  love 
of  me.  (I  thought  of  Marvin  Gray.) 

"It  was  after  you  and  Paul  were  married 

Love  fills  that  I  came  to  know  well  a  man  only  a  few 

the  void  years  older  than  Paill  fcirasetf.     i  cannot  tell 

you  the  kind  of  man  he  was  and  is  for  various 
reasons.  He  came  into  my  life  when  it  was 
empty.  (Dear  Ma  Belle,  how  little  did  she  let 
us  feel  the  emptiness  of  her  life  after  I  took 
Paul !)  He  understood  me,  a  fact  which 
seemed  to  me  most  marvellous ;  and  without 
intrusion  he  came  into  my  life  and  filled  my 
thoughts.  He  was  wonderful  in  his  instincts 
and  intuitions,  and  he  had  the  elements  of 
greatness  in  his  character. 

"I  was  forty-four  and  he  thirty  when  he  told 
me  that  he  loved  me  and  entreated  me  to  be 
272 


MA  BELLE'S  STORY 

his  wife.      I  loved  him  as  I  have  loved  no 

other  man,  and  I  told  him  so.     I  struggled  as   when  Love 

you  are  struggling  with  the  same  problem,  ** in  ^attle 

only  my  heart  pleaded  for  him  as  your  heart 

does  not  plead  for  Theodore  Morris. 

"I  would  not  yield  because  I  measured  the 
results  that  would  follow  this  disparity  of  An  evidence 

ages  after  marriage.     I  did  not  feel  equal  to  °fjjirowin9 

old 
the  strain  of  beginning  life  again  with  him. 

I  think  a  chief  evidence  of  growing  old  is  an 
unwillingness  to  pay  for  experiences  what 
they  cost.  I  was  too  set  in  my  own  grooves 
to  change  and  be  his  wife.  How  could  I 
spend  my  energies  making  myself  attractive, 
beautiful  and  interesting  so  that  he  would 
never  miss  what  a  younger  woman  would  give 
him  ?  I  had  lived  that  phase  of  my  life  once, 
and  did  not  feel  equal  to  living  it  over  again. 
The  handicap  seemed  too  great  and,  Marian,  Woman's 
I  sent  him  away.  After  Paul  died  he  came  handicaP 
back  to  me  ;  and  that  time  it  was  harder  to 
deny  him  than  it  had  been  before.  But  my 
decision  was  made  and  I  would  not  yield  to 
him  nor  to  my  own  heart. 

"Ever  since  that  time,  I  have  questioned 
273 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

the  wisdom  of  my  decision.  I  have  been  lonely, 
The  barter  of  so  lonely  for  him.     And  though  the  wisdom  of 
happiness  for  the  world  would  approve  my  act.  I  am  still 
wisdom 

wondering  if  I  did  not  do  a  vital  and  per- 
manent wrong.  He  has  never  married,  and 
has  gone  bravely  on  with  his  work  as  I  knew 
he  would.  I  should  hold  in  contempt  a  man 
who  did  not  live  strongly  because  I  could  not 
live  at  his  side. 

"Marian,  neither  he  nor  anyone  else  has 
ever  known  the  heights  and  depths  of  my 
madness.  Sometimes  I  see  him  and  we  speak 
of  our  love  j  and  the  moments  spent  with  him 
are  so  ecstatically  happy  that  I  cannot  re- 
member them  afterwards. 

"I  hope  that  you  will  go  home  and  think 

When  the  over  carefully  what  I  have  said  before  you 

teart  pleads  make  your  decision.     If  I  thought  that  you 

loved  Mr.  Morris  as  I  have  loved  my  lover  all 

these  years,  I  would  say,  marry  him  and  defy 

the  world   and   common    sense."      She   was 

silent  for  a  moment  and  then  said  : 

"I  know  you  are  wondering  who  this  man 
is,  but,  of  course  I  cannot  tell  you.     I  will 
only  say  that  though  you  may  have  seen  him, 
you  do  not  know  him." 
274 


MA  BELLE'S  STOEY 

f  arose  too  overcome  with  surprise  and  awe 
to  say  anything,  but  I  knew  she  understood. 

She  came  with  me  to  the  door,  and  as  we 
stood  there  hand  in  hand,  I  again  was  con- 
scious of  her  loveliness  which  age  could  not 
dim,  and  my  heart  went  out  to  that  man  who 
loved  her.  As  I  left  her  I  took  a  spray  of  the 
lilies  from  her  bosom  at  which  she  whispered 
as  a  flush  crept  over  her  face  : 

"The  room  was  filled  with  the  odor  of  lilies- 
of-the- valley,  and  I  wore  them  the  night  he  LiUes-of-the  - 
told  me  that  he  loved  me.    They  were  in  valley 
bloom  again  when  he  came  back  to  me,  and 
that  is  why  I  love  them." 

I  kissed  her  and  came  away  in  a  daze,  hold- 
ing in  my  hand  helplessly  the  delicate  flowei 
I  had  taken.  The  world  grew  dark  and  I 
could  not  see  where  I  was  walking,  for  I  had 
suddenly  remembered  that  bunch  of  faded 
lilies-of-the-valley  inadvertently  discovered 
in  Tom  Carroll's  desk— and  then  I  knew. 

MAY  31ST :— She  said  I  did  not  know  him, 
d*ar  Ma  Belle,  that  lie  was  so  white  that  it  A  shining  He 
fairly  shone  !    Of  course  she  would  not  let  me 
275 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

suspect  that  it  was  Tom.  For  the  sake  of 
helping  me  she  could  confide  to  me  her  own 
story,  but  his  secret  must  be  kept  inviolate. 

It  is  all  so  plain  now,  for  every  word  she 
said  applies  to  him  perfectly.  He  is  a  few 
years  older  than  Paul,  who  was  born  before 
Ma  Belle  was  eighteen.  And  how  could  Tom 
be  with  her  so  intimately  and  not  love  her, 
for  she  is  the  most  interesting  woman  in  the 
whole  round  world.  If  they  had  married  she 
would  have  retained  all  her  charm  for  him, 
even  if  she  lived  to  the  age  of  ninety.  Any 
one  associated  with  her  would  have  to  be 
blind  and  deaf  not  to  love  her.  Tom  Carroll 
could  not  help  it,  and  so  he  has  gone  on  nobly 
and  bravely,  living  his  life  parallel  with  that 
of  the  woman  he  loves,  even  though  he  might 
not  live  it  with  her. 

As  for  myself,  it  does  not  matter.  I  have 
Between  the  not  been  so  foolish  as  to  care  so  much  that  I 

upper  and  the  cannot  meet  this  revelation  as  becomes  his 

nether 
mill-stones  friend  and  her  daughter.    Nor  do  I  think  I 

have  anything  to  repent ;  how  could  I  help 

caring  very  much  for  a  man   so  true    and 

strong— a  man  so  brave  and  unselfish  as  he  ? 

276 


MA  BELLE'S  STOKY 

I  am  glad  that  I  had  discernment  enough  to 
comprehend  his  nobility  and  care  for  him  as 
I  have  done.  I  trust  in  the  end  I  shall  prove 
myself  worthy  of  these  two,  who  have  turned 
so  resolutely  away  from  the  tragedy  of  their 
two  lives  and  have  with  steady  eyes  confronted 
the  future,  each  alone. 

JUNE  IST  :— To-day  there  came  a  package 
from  Ma  Belle,  and  a  little  note  which  says  : 

DEAR  MARIAN: 

I  told  you  that  no  one  knew  the  heights  and 
depths   of  nay    madness.    I   found   to-day  these  Life-Wood  a 
verses  and  I  send  them  to  you  and  hope  that  you  stultifying 
will  read  them.    They  are  not  poetry,  for  they  injc 
were  written  in  my  life's  blood  and  life's  blood  is  a 
stultifying  ink.    True  art  can  only  come  through 
distance  and  perspective ;  but  these  were  written 
at  the  storm  center.    I  think  it  is  a  relief  to  have 
you  know  the  truth. 

Lovingly, 

MA  BELLE. 

I  have  read  these  verses  and  I  will  read 
them  again  to  you,  my  Confessor.  Not  be- 
cause you  will  appreciate  them  but  because  it 
hurts  to  read  them.  I  do  not  think  I  am 

277 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

jealous.     Jealousy    is    such   a  mean,   insane 
Better  have  emotion   that  we  had  better  have  remained 

remained  gregarious  than  to  have  developed  so  con- 
gregarious 

temptible  a  passion.     But  it  all  hurts,  and  I 

wish  I  could  get  away  from  it. 

These  verses  reveal  to  me  a  woman  I  have 
Woman's  never  known.     We  women  understand  each 

limits  in  ot]ier  except  on  one  side,  and  that  we  never 
understand- 
ing woman  understand.     A   man   understands    this  side 

first  of  all,  though  he  may  be  unable  to  com- 
prehend anything  else  in  us. 

LILIES-OF-THE-VALLEY. 

White,  gleaming  lily  bells 
Your  fairy  music  wells 

Into  a  chime 
Of  perfume  on  the  air, 
Proclaiming  everywhere 

Glad  spring-time. 

As  o'er  my  senses  steals 
The  incense  of  your  peals, 

My  breath  comes  fast  ;— 
A  flood-tide  beats  and  breaks 
Against  a  heart  that  aches ; 
Your  subtle  fragrance  makes 

Me  live  the  past. 
278 


MA  BELLE'S  STOKY 

Ring,  pearly  lily  bells, 
The  saddest  of  your  knells 

For  me,  your  friend, 
For  a  love  born  not  to  die, 
For  a  grief  without  a  cry, 
For  a  soul  that  questions,"  Why?" 

Unto  the  end, 

May,  1886. 

BARREN  VICTORY. 

I  have  conquered ;  the  battle  is  done ; 

I  gaze  on  the  field  of  my  slain. 
By  counting  my  loss,  I  have  won  ; 

Despair  is  the  meed  of  my  gain. 

The  struggle  was  bitter,  and  now 
Pale  Victory  stands  at  my  side; 

Though  laurels  are  fresh  on  her  brow, 
They  fail  her  grim  visage  to  hide. 

I  have  conquered.    Henceforth  I  may  dream 
How  precious,  how  infinite  sweet 

Would  life  and  this  empty  world  seem 
Had  the  rapture  been  mine  of  defeat. 
July,  1890. 

GOOD  NIGHT. 

Dear  heart,  you  said  "  good  night," 
And  the  dim  stars  vaguely  watched 
You  vanish  from  my  sight. 
279 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

Good  night,  yea,  surely  good, — 
Because  you  came  God-sent 
And  by  my  side  had  stood. 

Good  night,  yea,  night  for  ay, 
For  when  you  left  me  there, 
You  took  with  you  the  day. 
October,  1889. 


A  BIRTHDAY  GREETING. 

What  have  the  years  unto  thee  given? 

A  life  fair  and  strong ! 

Yea,  though  to  it  belong  that   human  strength 
temptation  riven, 

Which  faceth  bravely  wrong. 

What  shall  the  years  unto  thee  bring  ? 

The  subtle  gift  to  know 

That  other  lives  are  built  by  gaunt  strife's  meas- 
uring, 

The  fairest  even  so. 

What  doth  the  heart  that  loves  thee  so 

Bring  unto  thee  this  day  ? 

One  happy  thought,  I  pray ! 
It  would  bring  weal ; — it  bringeth  woe, 

And  love  and  love  alway. 

December,  1894. 

280 


MA  BELLE'S  STOKY 


BOWED  DOWN. 

Thy  burdens  bow  thee  down,  Beloved, 

But  I  cannot  repine, 
Since  only  when  thy  head  is  bowed 

My  eyes  may  look  in  thine. 

And  when  thy  eyes  meet  mine,  Beloved, 

Life's  better  gifts  I  see : 
Great  life  and  love,  and  the  loneliness 

Of  a  Gethsemane. 


January,  1897. 


THE  LOVING  CUP. 

Wherefore  hath  our  loving  cup 

Of  jewelled  handles  three? 
A  guest  this  night  sits  at  our  board, 
With  veiled  form  and  dark  eyes  lowered, 

Sweetheart,  who  may  she  be  ? 

We  rise  to  drink,  and  lift  the  cup 

By  jewelled  handles  three. 
Sweetheart,  >t  is  Fate  ;  she  giveth  first 
The  cup  unto  our  lips  athirst, 

Then  drinks  to  thee  and  me. 
281 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

The  draught  within  the  loving  cup, 

Which  brimmeth  o'er  for  three, 
Was  drawn  from  Lethe's  darkened  stream, 
And  now,  sweetheart,  life  is  the  dream, 

Love,  the  reality. 
Jane,  1896. 

OUR  STARS. 

Where  are  our  stars  to-night,  sweetheart? 

The  clouds  are  hanging  low, 
Gray  clouds  that  move  not  hence,  sweetheart, 

Though  driving  west- winds  blow. 
Are  your  skies  dark  or  bright,  sweetheart? 

Alas !  I  may  not  know. 

When  my  stars  are  lost  from  sight,  sweetheart, 

My  heart  doth  make  this  plea 
To  the  powers  of  might  and  night,  sweetheart, 

That  you  the  stars  still  see. 
God  keep  you  in  the  light,  sweetheart, 

Though  darkness  falls  on  me. 

June,  1903. 


282 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   VIOLIN    MAKES   LOVE    TO    THE   PIANO 
WITH   STARTLING  RESULTS 

JUNE  3D:— Dear  Confessor,  after  all  you 
are  my  only  help.  Ma  Belle  instead  of  The  best 
helping,  has  made  it  worse.  I  met  Theodore  ™£ 
down  town  to-day  when  I  was  trying  to  keep 
my  mind  on  some  necessary  marketing  and 
shopping.  He  gave  me  one  long  and  ques- 
tioning look  and  then  took  his  place  at  my 
side  without  asking  leave,  and  I  at  once  felt 
the  sympathy  and  help  which  he  was  mutely 
offering  to  me.  Every  cadence  of  his  voice 
in  our  very  commonplace  conversation  told 
me  that  he  was  giving  himself  to  me  because 
I  was  in  need ;  he  comforted  the  bare  and 
aching  place  and  I  let  myself  rest,  sustained 
by  his  ministrations.  Though  no  word  of 
deeper  meaning  was  said,  I  came  home  cheered  The  dangers 
and  strengthened  by  his  subtle  understanding  ° 
of  me. 

283 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

In  the  whirlpool  of  emotion  in  which  I 
Thecondi-  have  been  helplessly  drifting  around  and 
^^niarriagl  aroun(l  since  that  day  with  mamma,  I  had 
almost  forgotten  that  this  problem  of  T.  M. 
is  immediately  before  me.  The  temptation 
is  to  take  what  comforts  and  helps  j  I  feel 
the  instinct  of  seeking  shelter  in  his  arms 
from  this  tempest  of  loneliness  and  despair. 
Under  the  stress  of  it  all  it  is  hard  to  remem- 
ber the  great  truth  that  marriage  is  never 
true  and  right  unless  the  two  give  equally, 
even  though  they  take  unequally.  I  am 
afraid  of  my  own  weakness— afraid  that  I 
shall  yield  to  his  will  rather  than  to  my  own 
sense  of  right  and  justice. 

JUNE  4TH  :— Oh,  how  can  mortals  be  so  blind, 
so  blind !  It  seems  as  if  there  were  nothing 
left  for  me  these  days  but  shock  after  shock 
of  awakening. 

All  day  yesterday  I  wrestled  with  my  prob- 
Perilous  lem,   and    the  more  I  wrestled,  the    more 
restlessness  reckiess  j  became.     There  is  a  factor  of  rest- 
lessness in  recklessness  which  is  most  danger- 
ous.    We  do  not  so  much  desire  to  do  reck- 
284 


THE  VIOLIN  MAKES  LOVE  TO  PIANO 

less  deeds  as  to  do  something,  no  matter  what, 
to  change  present  conditions. 

Last  night  Theodore  came  with  his  violin 
to  play  for  me,  "  If  we  could  only  be  left  alone 
for  a  few  moments,"  he  whispered.  But 
Hilda  chanced  to  come  in  and  of  course  the 
two  played  together.  I  was  relieved  by 
Hilda's  opportune  appearance  for,  truth  to 
tell,  I  was  afraid  of  being  left  alone  with  him 
and  his  heart-pleading  violin  5  I  felt  the  need 
of  a  brief  reprieve. 

Somewhat  late  in  the  evening  we  three 
were  left  alone  j  as  the  two  began  playing  the  Perfec 
music  they  knew  I  loved  best  I,  as  usual, 
curled  up  on  the  sofa  and  shut  my  eyes  to 
listen.  At  first  they  did  not  play  as  well  as 
usual,  but  finally  it  went  better  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  I  had  never  heard  them  play  so 
perfectly ;  they  were  evidently  attuned  to 
each  other's  moods.  They  played  Chopin's 
Nocturnes  and  Preludes,  Godard's  Berceuse, 
and  The  Swan  by  Saint  Saens,  and  a  Beet- 
hoven Sonata. 

I  did  not  care  for  their  music,  although  I 
realized  that  it  had   never  before  been  so 
285 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

thrilling.     I  could  not   find  even  the  this- 
Love  crosses  world   end  of  my  bridge  to  music  land.     I 

fl  %e  '  I  was  weltering  in  my  own  inner  misery  and 
musvc  land 

could  not  be  called  out  of  myself.  Restlessly 
I  opened  my  eyes  and  looked  at  the  players  j 
they  were  under  the  full  blaze  of  the  Wels- 
bach  light  and  were  both  facing  nearly  in  my 
direction.  They  had  just  finished  the  Aria 
on  the  G  string  and  Hilda  was  as  pale  as 
death.  In  strong  contrast  his  face  was  aglow ; 
there  was  fire  in  his  eyes,  a  bright  color 
burned  in  his  usually  pale  cheeks,  and  even 
his  moustache  could  not  hide  the  tremulous 
tenderness  of  his  lips.  For  the  first  time  I 
saw  his  inner  being  revealed  in  his  features. 
As  he  placed  another  piece  of  music  on  the 

The  piano  in  front  of  her,  his  hands  were  trembling 
heart-plead-  SQ  that  t]ie  slieet  was  shaking .  as  he  leaned 
ing  violin 

over  to  put  it  in  place  his  eyes  must  have 

sought  hers ;  I  could  not  see  his  face  for  the 
moment  but  Hilda's  was  in  fall  view,  and  a 
wave  of  red  surged  over  it  from  brow  to  chin, 
then  retreated  leaving  it  more  pallid  than 
before.  They  began  playing  Beethoven's 
Adelaida,  and  never  in  my  life  had  I  heard 
286 


THE  VIOLIN  MAKES  LOVE  TO  PIANO 

such  impassioned  music.  The  violin  pleaded 
and  pleaded  until  its  heart  seemed  breaking  j 
the  piano  responded  sweet  and  profoundly 
sad  5  and  I  was  overcome  by  the  music  even 
as  I  lay  there  stupefied  by  my  discovery. 

As  soon  as  I  could  think,  it  all  became 
plain ;  and  I  had  now  gained  the  key  to  the  A  quite 
mysterious  moods  and  actions  of  this  man  ^^ 
who  had  been  wooing  me.     At  first  he  be-  situation 
lieved  he  loved  me,  and  was  calm  and  master- 
ful and  sure  in  his  methods  for  winning  me. 
After  Hilda  came  and  they  played  together 
so  constantly,  he   became  moody  and  grim, 
and  his  wooing  was  evidently  mere  bravado 
to  convince  himself  that  he  was  loyal  to  me. 
I  must  have  been  mad  not  to  have  seen  it  all 
long  ago. 

Whatever  the  music  this  night  revealed  to 
them  of  heart-struggle  and  love,  I  do  not 
know ;  but  it  cleared  my  understanding, 
brought  back  my  self-control,  re-established 
my  sanity  and  made  me  at  once  master  of 
the  situation.  Before  the  last  bars  of 
Adelaida  were  finished,  I  arose  and  thought- 
fully tipped  over  a  chair  on  my  way  toward 
287 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

the  piano  and  the  absorbed  musicians.  As 
they  stopped  playing  I  exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  that  wretched  chair !  Please  for- 
give me  and  it !  You  two  have  fairly  out- 
done yourselves  to-night  making  music  for 
me,  and  I  can  find  no  words  to  fittingly  thank 
you  with.  I  am  certainly  the  most  favored 
mortal  in  the  whole  world." 

And    thus  by   cheerful    commonplaces,   I 

The  safe  brought  them  back  to  earth  and  its  realities. 

— nplwe  I  sent  them  home  together,  too,  knowing  well 

that  despite  the  longing  in   his  heart,   he 

would  be  true  to  his  avowal  to  me.     I  must 

confess  also  that  I  am  quite  willing  to  have 

him  suffer  a  little ;  it  will  widen  and  deepen 

his  channel. 

Since  I  have  come  to  my  room,  I  have 
A  proper  written  him  a  letter.  It  is  thus  I  give  him 

relation  to  ^     freedom  without  allowing    him  to  sus- 
tho  secrets  of 

others  pect  that  I  know  the  truth.     It  is  a  great 

source  of  personal  power  to  know  the  secrets 
of  others'  lives,  but  it  is  vastly  embarrassing 
to  have  them  know  that  you  have  discovered 
such  secrets  independently.  Listen  to  this 

288 


THE  VIOLIN  MAKES  LOVE  TO  PIANO 

letter,  Confessor,  and  I  am  very  certain  you 
will  hardly  dare  to  call  me  guileless. 

MY  DEAR  THEODORE  : 

You  have  asked  me  for  an  answer  to  a  very 
momentous  question,  and  I  have  been  coming  to  j  guileful 
this  answer  little  by  little.    I  do  not  suppose  you  letter 
will  ever  know  what  a  temptation  you  have  been 
to  me  with  your  sympathy,  understanding  and 
love.     But   I  have    finally    achieved    sufficient 
strength  to  do  what  is  right  and  be  true  to  myself 
and  to  you. 

I  knew  from  the  first  that  I  could  never  love  you 
as  a  wife  ought  to  love ;  but  your  love  for  me  was 
so  sweet  and  so  comforting  when  I  was  needing 
comfort  that  I  almost  forgot  what  I  could  give  in 
return. 

It  was  a  mirage,  dear  friend,  and  we  have  both  ^  mirage 
wandered  on  and  on  toward  it,  hoping  to  see  it 
materialize.    But  it  remained  always  on  our  hori- 
zon ;  at  best,  it  was  a  paradise  picture  upside  down. 

I  am  going  away  from  you,  for  I  will  not  place 
myself  in  a  position  to  be  again  tempted.  And  I 
believe  with  all  my  heart  that  when  I  come  back 
we  shall  be  better  friends  than  ever  before ;  and 
that  all  temptation  to  twist  our  friendship  into 
something  closer  will  have  been  laid  low. 
Faithfully  yours, 

MARIAN. 
289 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

I  am  going  away  so  that  he  shall  not  see 
lack  of  me  until  he  has  had  time-  to  orient  himself. 

[elf~  Probably   he   does   not  understand  himself, 
comprehen- 
sion men   seldom  do  in    such  crises.     I  remem- 
ber well  when  I  read  the   Choir  Invisible,  I 
thought  how  true  to  man's  nature  was  the 
character  of  John  Gray.    He  thought  he  was 
in  love  with  Amy  when  he  was  really  in  love 
with  the  Madam ;  and  he  afterwards  married 
another   woman    and  was  perfectly  happy. 
Over  and  over  I  have  been  amazed  at  a  man's 
capability  for  loving  two  or  three  simultane- 
ously.     With  women  it  is  far  different :  they 
love  tandem,  even  though  they  change  teams 
A  gratuitous  often.    All  this  sounds  heartless  and  flippant, 

and  Remark  but  !t  is  a  natural  reaction.  No  one  but  you, 
My  Confessor,  knows  how  truly  relieved  I  am 
to  have  the  Theodore  Morris  problem  solve 
itself.  When  I  think  how  near  I  came  to 
spoiling  his  life  and  mine,  I  shiver.  He  was 
never  in  my  straight  road ;  I  found  him  when 
I  was  making  a  detour  by  a  devious  and  blind 

A  Hind  trail  trail.  I  believe  I  could  endure  living  the 
truth  however  hard  it  might  be  ;  but  it  seems 
a  quite  unnecessary  waste  of  energy  to  go 
290 


THE  VIOLIN  MAKES  LOVE  TO  PIANO 

out  of  my  way  in  order  to  endure  the  hard- 
ship of  living  a  lie. 

And  yet  the  discovery  which  I  made  to- 
night was  a  shock  to  me ;  not  a  terrible  shock,  An 

but  the  sort  that  comes  from  sitting  on  the  Dominions 

experience 
floor  instead  of  the  chair  one  expects  to  sit 

on.  There  is  a  most  ignominious  feeling 
about  it  all. 

If  you  knew  women  well,  you  might  think 
that  though  I  love  not  my  lover,  I  still  might  Love  that  is 

not  like  to  yield  him  to  another  woman.    But  tru€  cann<>t  fo 

T  _    alienated 

this  is  not  so  j  I  would  be  entirely  content  and 

happy  to  see  Theodore  and  Hilda  happy  to- 
gether as  husband  and  wife.  I  do  not  think 
there  is  any  jealousy  in  my  composition,  be- 
cause of  my  sincere  belief  that  if  a  love  is 
mine,  it  cannot  be  alienated ;  -and  if  it  belongs 
to  another,  I  do  not  desire  it.  And,  too,  I 
love  Hilda  and  I  love— Ma  Belle.  Moreover, 
my  creed  has  always  been  to  face  things  as 
they  are  and  not  to  cover  my  eyes  with  my 
hands  in  order  not  to  see  them.  But  it  hurts 
to  face  some  things,  little  god,  it  hurts  ! 


291 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

JL  FLIGHT  TO  THE  HILLS.    FRIENDS'  MEETING 

JUNE  6TH  :— I  hope  your    sudden   flight 
across  country  to  this  beautiful  spot,  and 
An  excellent  the  exchange  of  your  carven   temple  for  a 
cement  s^e^  adorned  with  a  linen  lambrequin  broi- 
dered  with   extraordinary  fuchsias  has  not 
made  you  either  dizzy  or  irritable,  My  Con- 
fessor.    You   see,  I  could  not  help  eloping 
with  you.    As  you  may  have  inferred,  life  has 
been  a  little  too  much  for  me  of  late,  so  I 
gathered   up    the   fragments  of  myself  and 
brought  them  away  j  and  here,  in  this  limpid 
quiet  and  peacefulness,  I   will  set  them  to- 
gether again  and  trust  that  ultimately  not  a 
crack  will  be  discernible. 

From  your  shelf  beneath  my  little  uneven 
Mine  own  hills  mirror,  which  makes  me  look  as  wobbly  as  I 
feel,  you  may  look  out  between  snowy  cur- 
tains across  a  grassy  dooryard,  thence  across 
292 


A  FLIGHT  T0  THE  HILLS 

a  valley  to  a  range  of  eastern  hills.  One 
of  the  pleasantest  physical  sensations  of 
my  life  was  the  feeling  of  the  soft  knot-grass 
beneath  my  little  bare  feet,  when  in  my  child- 
hood I  was  allowed  to  remove  my  shoes  and 
stockings  and  play  for  a  brief  but  rapturous 
hour  in  this  sunny  dooryard.  And  those  are 
mine  own  hills  which  I  lived  with  and  dreamed 
with  during  the  years  of  girlhood,  when  all 
the  great  world  that  lay  beyond  that  hor- 
izon was  one  of  high  hopes  and  entrancing 
happiness.  Now  that  I  know  just  what  there 
is  in  that  great  world,  I  hurry  back  to  love 
my  hills  still  more  for  what  they  fence  out. 
This  is  my  life-saving-station,  and  I  came  none 
too  soon. 

The  lady  with  fair  face  and  quirly  white 
hair,  who  asked  in  a  tone  of  amazement  this  Aunt  Sylvia 
morning  concerning  Your  Serene  Highness, 
"What  on  the  broad  footstool  is  this  thing  on 
your  shelf,  Marian?"  is  Aunt  Sylvia.  She 
and  Uncle  Stephen  came  here  to  live  when 
Aunt  Emily  died,  and  they  are  a  part  of  the 
beauty,  the  peace  and  the  healing  which  over- 
flows the  place.  These  two  wholesome,  youth- 
293 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

ful  elderly  ones  are  twins,  and  have  lived 
Uncle  Stephen  together,  barring  the  two  brief  years  of 
Uncle  Stephen's  married  life,  since  they  were 
born.  I  can  see  Uncle  Stephen  now,  smoking 
his  pipe  in  his  big  chair  on  the  porch  of  the 
L.  His  cheeks  are  rosy  and  his  blue  eyes  are 
merry  as  he  looks  up  at  the  robin  in  her  nest 
above  his  head  ;  and  his  voice  is  soft  and 
reassuring  as  he  greets  a  hen,  coming  slowly 
toward  him  with  stately  step  and  sidewise 
stare  to  discover  if  he  has  anything  in  his 
pocket  for  her  to  eat.  And  now  he  has  taken 
up  his  New  York  Evening  Post  and  is  nod- 
ding vigorously  as  he  reads  some  editorial. 
Editorial  The  pepper-sauce  of  that  editorial  page  is 
yeppev  e  ^^  as  necessarv  to  his  happiness  as  his  daily 
meat. 

I  came  without  warning,  as  I  usually  do ; 
and  my  welcome  was  as  warm  as  if  specially 
prepared.  Aunt  Sylvia  tucked  me  into  bed 
last  night  as  she  used  to  when  as  a  girl  I  spent 
my  vacations  here.  And  I  put  my  head  on 
that  blessed  pillow  and  slept  as  I  have  not 
slept  before  for  weeks. 
294 


A  FLIGHT  TO  THE  HILLS 
JUNE  TTH  :— I  wish  I  had  taken  you  with, 
me  this  morning,  to  the  great  woods  on  the  The  ministry 
"templed  hills."    Though  the  sun  was  shining,  °f the  birds 
the  leaf-canopy  above  me  was  so  thick  that  I 
was  walking  in  twilight.    I  found  a  tree  bent 
into  a  seat,  into  which  I  used  to  clamber  with 
a  sense  of  happy  proprietorship,  and  there  I 
sat  me  down  to  listen  to  the  bird  concert.    A 
vireo  was  asking  querulous  questions  in  the 
distance  j  a  wood  thrush  near  by  gave  out  his 
notes  boldly,  fortissimo  5  a  veery  was  so  in  love 
with  his  song  that  he  repeated  it  four  times, 
lingeringly;    and  now   and    then  a    hermit 
thrush  sent  his  heavenly  voice  echoing  through 
the  twilight  spaces,  music  so  exquisite  that  we 
might  not  bear  more  than  a  single  phrase. 
Then,  lest  I  be  drunk  with  melody,  the  oven 
bird  called  "teacher,  teacher,"   to  bring  me 
back  to  earth.    Yes,  back  to  earth  j  but  not  A  good  place 
an  earth  of  trouble  and  perplexity ;  an  earth,  to  lwe  m 
instead,  where  green  forests  grow  beset  with 
meadows  aglow  with  buttercups,  overarched 
with  blue  skies. 

You  who  know  something  of  my  inner  tur- 
moil during  the  preceding  days,  may  have 
295 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

difficulty  in  understanding  how  I  have  so 

Antiseptic  suddenly  changed  my  inner  as  well  as  my 
thinking  outer  WQrld      jt  is  my  wa^  deap  jd()^  when 

T  am  hit,  not  to  stay  and  waste  myself  in  fur- 
ther struggle,  but  to  flee  from  the  battle  field, 
turn  my  face  to  green  fields  and  sunny  skies ; 
and  by  keeping  my  thoughts  thoroughly  an- 
tiseptic, let  the  hurts  heal  through  Nature's 
own  kindly  treatment. 

The  Master  evinced  his  wisdom  when  he 

Conscience  went  to  the  desert  to  be  tempted,  it  was  much 

1  apogee  safer  y^^  ^o  have  remained  in  the  haunts  of 

men  j  never  to  be  alone  is  in  itself  demoral- 
izing. Though  this  beautiful  spot  is  hardly  a 
desert,  yet  for  me  it  is  the  delectable  land  of 
nowhere  j  and  the  logical  and  delightful  thing 
to  do  is  to  subside  into  a  nobody.  No  introspec- 
tions, no  retrospections,  no  sack-cloth  5  and 
ashes  but  an  aid  to  the  general  fertility  of  the 
spiritual  outlook.  Even  conscience  soon  be- 
comes obsolete,  because  there  is  nothing  here  to 
exercise  it.  I  suspect  that  hermits  originally 
dwelt  in  hermitages  so  as  to  get  away  from  all 
need  of  a  conscience. 

296 


A  FLIGHT  TO  THE  HILLS 

JUNE  STH  :— This  morning  I  went  with  Uncle 
Stephen   to  hoe  corn ;  it  was  planted  in  a  Hoeing 
small  field  on  the   hill  that   faces  the  east,  corn 
from  which  may  be  seen  the  windings  of  the 
creek  around  the  bases    of  the  interlacing 
hills.     The  corn  was  just  peeping  from  the 
soft,  purple  mold,   and  Uncle  Stephen  ex 
plained : 

"  All  the  rest  of  the  corn  on  the  farm  is 
drilled  in  with  a  planter,  and  is  harrowed  and  Friendly 
cultivated  according  to  new-fangled  notions  ;  battle 
but  I  plant  and  hoe  this  piece  every  year  be- 
cause I  like  to.  If  I  could  not  give  my  old  back 
some  good  stiff  exercise  hoeing  corn,  I  am 
afraid  I  should  soon  get  decrepit  and  useless." 
He  gently  smoothed  the  fresh  earth  around 
the  tender  plants,  proving  skilfully  that  a  hoe 
may  caress  as  well  as  cut,  and  continued : 
"Thee  knows  the  only  fighting  Friends  may 
indulge  in  is  against  weeds,  and  their  only  ap- 
proved weapon  is  the  hoe.  I  love  to  work 
with  the  corn  j  I  think  it  is  a  beautiful  plant 
from  the  time  it  sprouts  until  it  is  harvested. 
I  like  to  think  of  it  as  the  plant  which  gave 
our  Pilgrim  Fathers  sustenance  during  those 
297 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

first  hard  years,  growing  cheerfully  for  them 
between  the  stumps  of  their  clearings  where 
no  civilized  grain  could  grow.  Did  thee  ever 
hear  the  ripening  grain  talk  ?  It  has  a  lan- 
guage of  its  own,  and  I  often  stand  and  listen 
to  it  whispering  and  whispering  in  corn  talk, 
and  wish  I  understood  it  better  than  I  do." 

Dear  Uncle  Stephen  !     He  should  have  been 
Living  poetry  using  a  pen  instead  of  a  hoe  ;  but  he  is  one  of 

instead  of  tlie  biesse(i  ones  who  ijve  poetry  instead  of 
writing  it 

writing  it.     I  sat  under  a  tree  at  the  edge  of 

the  field,  and  watched  his  sturdy  arms  in 
their  snowy  sleeves  work  havoc  in  the  weed 
ranks  ;  meanwhile  I  gave  myself  over  to  the 
beguilement  of  the  meadow-larks'  refrain. 
There  are  no  words  to  express  what  their 
song  means  to  me,  perhaps 'happy  tears  would 
express  it  better  than  anything  else. 

JUNE  9TH  :— This  morning  Aunt  Sylvia  said 
to  me  in  her  humorous  way, 

"  What  a  fine  world  this  would  be  if  there 

The  curse  of  were  no  ( buts '  or  l  ifs '  in  it— no  conjunctions 

conjunctions  at  all  except   'and.'     I  have  always  believed 

that  conjunctions  were  the  first  inventions  of 

298 


A  FLIGHT  TO  THE  HILLS 

the  serpent.  When  his  poor  victims  were  put 
out  of  Eden,  he  hurled  a  lot  of  conjunctions 
after  them  by  way  of  emphasizing  their  fallen 
condition." 

That  was  a  fine  conception,  little  god  j  how 
true  that  a  happy  and  consistent  world  would  Nice,  serene 
need  no  conjunction  but  nice,  serene  "and."   "and" 
Listen  now  :  Marian  was  born,  and  grew  up, 
and  was  naughty,  and  was  good,  and  was  happy 
at  times,  and  died  peacefully,  and  evanesced 
into  Nirvana.     Does  n't  that  sound  easy  and 
simple?     Well,  in  this  place,   I  shall  soon 
eliminate  my  "  buts  "  and  "  ifs,  "  and  "  fors." 

I  have  had  a  restful  day  ;  I  spent  a  good 
share  of  it  in  the  hammock,  gazing  idly  at  the  The  song  of 


upland  seas  of  meadow-grass  undulating  in  the  f6 
summer  wind.  I  could  not  think  for  listening  world 
to  the  bobolinks  ;  ever  since  I  was  a  child  the 
bobolink  song  has  tinkled  itself  joyously  into 
the  uttermost  parts  of  my  being.  I  gave  my- 
self up  to  it  to-day  and  have  grown  in  grace 
because  of  it.  Who  says  this  is  a  hard  and 
perplexing  world  f  It  is  a  world  exactly 
right  ;  I  am  proud  to  be  in  any  world  that 
has  in  it  a  bobolink. 

299 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

JUNE  HTH  :— A   most   interesting   Sabbath 

Organized  day  !     It  never  occurred  to  me  before,  but  of 

worship  course  you?  being  a  Benighted  Heathen,  do 

do  not  know  what  Sunday  is,  do  you  ?  We 
people  of  the  western  world  are  prone  to 
organization  j  and  so  we  organize  our  worship, 
and  put  it  all  in  one  day  of  every  seven,  and 
call  that  day  Sunday. 

This  morning  I  hope  you  noticed  the  utter 

A  First-day  stillness  which  pervaded  this  house  j    even 

pilgrimage  Maria  in  the  kitcnen  did  not  rattle  the  dishes 

and  pans  as  is  her  wont  on  week  days.  At 
ten  the  great  carriage  drawn  by  the  plump 
farm-horses  was  at  the  door  j  there  was  room 
in  it  for  us  all  including  Maria,  and  James  the 
hired  man,  and  Eleazer,  the  hired  boy.  It 
was  a  soft,  misty  morning  and  as  we  drove 
along  by  lush  meadows,  the  trees  were  mere 
shadows  in  the  fog.  We  dropped  Maria  at 
the  Methodist,  and  James  at  the  Baptist 
church,  but  Eleazer  went  on  with  us  to  the 
Quaker  meeting  house  where  I  used  to  go 
when  a  child.  It  was  as  bare  and  as  clean 
and  peaceful  as  ever,  but  there  were  fewer 
people  within  it  than  of  yore.  Aunt  Sylvia 
300 


A  FLIGHT  TO  THE  HILLS 

and  Uncle  Stephen  sat  on  the  high  seats, 
facing  the  congregation,  and  a  few  other 
placid  faces  that  I  remembered  looked  down 
upon  us  from  that  eminence. 

The  meeting  began  and  we  sat  long  in 
silence.  No  temptation  came  to  me  now  to  Quaker 
break  that  blessed  silence  with  profane  shout-  meetin9 
ing ;  it  permeated  my  soul  comfortingly. 
After  Uncle  Josiah  Palmer  had  prayed,  even 
as  he  used  to  pray  employing  the  same  words 
and  thoughts,  the  sun  broke  through  the 
clouds  and  illumined  the  room.  In  this  flood 
of  light  there  arose  a  man  whom  I  did  not 
knowj  his  thin,  sensitive  face  showed  deep 
lines  but  it  shone  with  peace  and  was  as 
beautiful  and  clean  cut  as  a  cameo.  There 
was  something  that  smacked  of  the  world  and 
its  vanities  in  his  well  fitting  suit  of  gray,  his 
white  vest  and  the  jaunty  *roll  to  the  wide 
brim  of  his  hat  which  he  held  in  his  hand  as 
he  talked  5  in  a  voice  musical  and  vibrant  he 
said : 

"  'To  give  unto  them  beauty  for  ashes ;  the 
oil  of  joy  for  mourning ;  the  garment  of  praise  An  interesting 
for  the  spirit  of  heaviness.'    How  are  we  to  Preacher 
301 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

do  these  good  works  for  our  fellow  men  of 
Hardly  an  which  Isaiah  tells  us  ?    Is  it  by  following  our 

orthodox  QWn  (jevjous  Ways,  or  by  running  along  the 
sermon 

smoothly    beaten    track    of   the  wisdom  of 

others  ?  Nay,  nay,  wisdom  was  never  meant 
for  paving  our  ways ;  wisdom  is  the  final  com- 
pensation which  we  attain  at  the  end  of  our 
journey  over  the  rough,  unbroken  paths  of 
self.  "Wisdom  is  the  highest  gift  of  discipline. 
Which,  think  you,  gained  most,  Lazarus  to 
whom  all  gifts  were  denied  or  Midas  whose 
wish  was  fulfilled  ?  We  know  not  which 
gives  us  the  greater  discipline,  to  get  what 
we  desire  or  to  be  denied  it ;  both  are  good  if 
thereby  we  gain  wisdom.  Even  the  exchange 
of  integrity  for  wisdom  may  not  be  a  poor 
barter  for  some  souls,  since  wisdom  brings  a 
wider  comprehension  of  our  fellow  men,  and 
the  temptations  which  beset  them.  What 
though  we  lose  tiie  qualities  which  we  most 
prize,  if  by  so  doing  we  may  be  led  to  help 
the  fallen  !  I  would  call  no  barter  poor,  if  it 
assured  me  that  sympathy  and  understanding 
which  would  permit  another  soul  to  stand 
naked  before  me  and  say  (  See  me  as  I  am.7 
302 


A  FLIGHT  TO  THE  HILLS 

Greatness   may  come  to  us  when  we  least 
suspect  it  and  when  we  feel  most  bitterly  tfoe  Greatness 
enormity  of  our  failures.     For,  how  a  man  may  come 
must  be  like  God,  to  lead  another  to  say  in  WGX™C ud 
his  presence  l  See  me  as  I  am7 !  " 

He  sat  down  j  a  bumble-bee  buzzed  up  and 
down  a  pane ;  through  the  open  doors  we  The  soul 
heard  a  chipping  sparrow  singing  like  a  happy  ^athed  in 
grasshopper  in  the  lilacs,  and  an  oriole  in  the 
elms  trying  a  bit  of  the  Waldvogel's  song  in 
Siegfried.     And    yet    all    these    sounds    but 
emphasized  the  silence  which  laved  the  spirit 
as    does    the    cool    waters    of    a    wayside 
brook,  the  tired  and  soiled  feet  of  the  way- 
farer on  dusty  highways. 

Aunt  Sylvia  arose,  her  pretty  hair  escaping 
from  her  plain  bonnet  and  curling  in  a  most  The  Spirit 

worldly  way  about  her  sweet  face.   The  Spirit  mooes  Aunt 

Sylvia 
moved  her  to  say :  "  Many  among  us  who  are 

able  to  keep  the  letter  of  the  law,  suffer  be- 
cause we  are  not  able  to  keep  the  spirit  of  it  as 
well.  Let  us  beware  of  vain  reasoning  !  Tlie 
letter  of  the  law  is  meant  as  a  guide  for  our 
acts  in  dealing  with  our  fellow  men.  The 
spirit  of  the  law  is  our  own  struggle  for  in* 
303 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

terpretation  of  the  law  to  ourselves.  A  hair's 
breadth  lying  between  '  did  >  and  i  did  not '  is 
as  good  as  all  space  so  far  as  our  relations  to 
others  are  concerned.  So  let  us  not  reproach 
ourselves  that  we  keep  only  the  letter  of  the 
law ;  if  we  keep  it  well  and  prayerfully,  after 
a  time  rebellion  will  cease  and  we  shall  be  at 
one  with  the  spirit." 

After  she  ceased  speaking,  Uncle  Stephen 
The  Friendly  arose  and  began  the  hand-shaking  which  in- 
hand-shaking  dicated  that  the  meeting  was  at  an  end. 

Many  came  forward  to  greet  me  in  the  true 
Friendly  way ;  among  them  were  the  friends 
of  my  mother  whom  I  had  known  when  a 
'  child.  Finally,  the  stranger  who  had  spoken 
such  extraordinary  sentiments  for  a  Friend, 
came  forward  and  Aunt  Sylvia  introduced 
him  thus : 

"  Marian,  thee  surely  remembers   Gerritt 
An  old  Howland."     I  smiled  involuntarily,  for  that 
playmate  name    brought    back    vividly    an     incident 
of   my   early  life.      Aunt   Emily,   who   had 
withdrawn  from  the  Friends  to  join  the  Epis- 
copal church,  felt  thereby  justified  in  enjoy- 
ing to  a  certain  extent  the  vanities  of  the 
304 


A  FLIGHT  TO  THE  HILLS 

world.  At  my  earnest  insistence  she  had 
allowed  me  the  privilege  of  wearing  a  hoop- 
skirt,  which  at  that  time  was  more  or  less  the 
fashion.  One  day  when  I  was  dressed  in  my 
diminutive  hoops  Gerritt  Howland  and  his 
sister  came  visiting ;  the  latter  was  near  my 
own  age,  and  Gerritt  was  a  great  overgrown 
boy  several  years  my  senior.  But  he  conde- 
scended to  play  with  us  and  in  teaching  us 
the  game  of  "  Follow  my  leader,"  led  to  the 
roof  of  the  hen-house  and  leaped  thence  to 
the  ground.  I  was  not  to  be  outdone,  even 
by  a  big  boy,  and  so  I  followed  him ;  but  I 
was  not  to  the  crinoline  born  and  as  I  jumped 
from  the  roof  a  huge  nail  in  the  gable  caught  Annoying 
my  hoops  and  there  I  hung  suspended  head  susPense 
downward,  until  my  elders  rescued  me  to  my 
intense  mortification,  and  the  abolishment 
forever  of  hoops.  Could  it  be  that  this  man, 
strong  and  beautiful  of  face,  the  daring 
preacher  of  amazing  doctrines,  had  developed 
from  the  lively  boy  whose  chubby  face  I  re- 
member so  well  ?  He  took  my  hand  and  greeted 
me  gravely,  saying : 

"  I  remember  well  my  little  playmate,  and 
305 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

I  am  glad  to  meet  her  again."  There  was  a 
magnetic  quality  in  the  man  that  made  his 
commonplace  words  mean  much,  and  his 
clasp  of  my  hand  sent  an  electric  thrill  along 
my  arm.  I  could  hardly  wait  until  we  were 
on  our  way  home  to  ask  what  could  be  told 
of  Gerritt  Howland.  Aunt  Sylvia  replied : 
"It  takes  a  great  deal  to  teach  some  people 

The  hard  just  ordinary  common-sense  truths,  and  Ger- 
school  of  ritt  was  one  Of  tliat  sort      He  grew  up  ^3 

and  rebellious  and  finally  left  home  and  went 
to  the  city.  "What  happened  to  him  there 
we  never  knew,  but  a  good  many  years  ago 
he  met  with  a  great  change  of  heart  and 
mind.  He  is  doing  a  good  work  in  the  great 
city— i settlement7  work  people  call  it,  but  it 
makes  him  cross  to  hear  it  called  by  that 
name,  for  some  reason  or  other.  He  spends 
a  part  of  every  summer  with  his  sister, 
Letitia,  who  is  a  widow  and  lives  on  the  old 
homestead.  He  is  a  great  help  to  her  in 
carrying  on  the  place ;  and  he  is  the  best 
preacher  we  have  had  in  meeting  for  many 
a  year." 

"  A  man  who  has  had  to  struggle  for  his 
306 


A  FLIGHT  TO  THE  HILLS 
upward  trend,  knows  how  to  reach  the  souls 
of    other    stragglers,"   I    declared.      Uncle 
Stephen  responded,  teasingly  : 

"  Sylvia  does  n't  care  about  his  faults  as 
long  as  he  looks  handsome  and  preaches  well.   Good  and 

The  Eussians  have  a  proverb.  'Not  dear  be- 

and  good  f 

cause  good,  but  good  because  dear.7  " 

"  Nonsense,  Stephen  !     Thee  likes  to  hear 

Gerritt  preach  as  well  as  I  do,   and  thee 

knows  thee  does  j  he  is  moved  to  say  things 

which  are  true  and  interesting." 

"There  are  two  things  which  make  a  man 

interesting  to  a  woman,  Sylvia  ;  one  is  for  her  TWO  diverse 

to  discover  in  him  a  weakness  when  she  knows  PatJls  to 

woman's 
he  has  great  strength  j  the  other  is  for  her  to 


discover  strength  in  him  when  she  knows  he 
is  very  weak.  To  which  class  does  thee  claim 
that  Gerritt  belongs?"  asked  Uncle  Stephen 
with  a  wicked  little  twinkle  in  his  blue  eyes. 
Aunt  Sylvia  retorted  : 

"Just  being  interesting,  anyhow,  is  a  vir- 
tue in  this  commonplace  world."  One  virtue 

"A  virtue    that  brings    its    own   reward  ^re°f 

,  reward 

readily.** 

307 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"Stephen,  thee  is  so  exasperating,"  said 
Aunt  Sylvia  placidly. 

"I  am  not  exasperating,  I  am  only  just," 
he  argued. 

"Sympathy  and  charity  are  the  upholstery 

A  thin  of  the  judgment  seat,  Stephen ;  and  thee  >d 

cushion  Better  be  careful  or  thy  cushion  will  be  very 

thin,"   was   Aunt    Sylvia's  last   word.     The 

chief  entertainment  of  the  two  is  teasing  each 

other. 

The  gay  yellow  and  white,  many-gabled 
cottage  came  in  sight ;  this  house  was  Aunt 
Emily's  first  venture  after  she  withdrew  from 
the  Friends.  I  spoke  of  it  and  Aunt  Sylvia 
said,  in  smiling  reminiscence  : 

"Yes,  Emily  grew  tired  of  plainness.  I 
Aunt  Emily's  remember  perfectly  her  first  worldly  dress  j  it 
dash  for  was  a  combination  of  brilliant  green  and  sal- 
mon pink  and  Stephen  told  her  that  she 
looked  like  a  lobster  salad  in  it.  And  then 
she  must  build  this  house  different  in  form 
and  gayer  in  color  than  any  other  in  the 
country.  It  was  as  if  all  the  rebellion  against 
plainness  which  had  been  tempting  the  family 
for  generations  found  expression  in  her.  Thee 
308 


A  FLIGHT  TO  THE  HILLS 

remembers  how  passionately  she  loved  rit- 
ualism and  no  church  could  be  too  '  high '  for  Too  much  of 

her.     Once  mother  visited  Emily  in  the  city  an  entertain- 

ment 
and  they   attended   service  which  was  very 

elaborate  and  long ;  after  they  returned  home, 
Emily  felt  very  happy  and  triumphant  and 
asked,  'Did  you  ever  witness  anything  so 
interesting  or  beautiful  ? 7  'Yes,  Emily/  said 
mother  '  it  was  both  interesting  and  beauti- 
ful, but  it  was  no  way  to  spend  the  Sabbath.7 " 
"Perhaps  it  is  because  Sylvia  has  been  able 
to  conscientiously  live  in  a  gay  house  which 
she  could  not  help  inheriting,  that  she  has 
been  able  to  retain  Tier  plain  ways,"  said  Uncle 
Stephen  mischievously. 

JUNE  12TH:— Little  god,  maybe  you  know 
more  about  the  impulses  of  little  beings  than  Singed  wings 
I  do ;  if  so  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  why,  on 
a  damp,  warm  night  like  this,  the  small, 
winged  creatures  hurl  themselves  so  enthusi- 
astically into  the  flame  of  my  lamp,  as  they 
are  doing  this  moment,  leaving  as  a  result  of 
the  blissful  holocaust  nothing  but  a  bad  odor! 
Is  it  not  a  pity  that  singed  wings  are  quite  as 
309 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

malodorous  as  other  singed  substances  ?    Some 
Life's  of  these  flame-loving  moths,  having  failed  to 

antitheses  jncinerate  themselves  in  the  lamp,  seem  wild 
not  limited  to 

mankind  with  desire  to  commit  suicide  in  my  ink  bottle. 

I  wonder  if  it  is  because  of  disappointment  in 
not  reaching  the  light  that  they  choose  as  an 
alternative,  liquid  darkness !  Life  seems  full  of 
antitheses,  even  for  moths.  I  will  close  my 
window  and  prevent  this  wild  self-destruction  j 
— and  now  they  are  beating  their  wings 
against  the  glass  and  cannot  understand  what 
deters  them.  One  great  ^noctuid  flutters  up 
and  down  the  pane,  his  eyes  like  rubies,  afire 
with  desire.  What  good  fortune  for  him  that 
the  glass  is  there,  although  I  know  he  hates 
it. 

What  is  that  you  say,   Impertinent  Idol? 
An  unkind  That  I  ought  to  understand  from  experience 
confessor  ^G  jjangers  of  fluttering  around  flame,  the 
ignominy  of  singed  wings,  and  the  relief  to  be 
found  in  ink?  And  that  I  should  appreciate 
to  the  fullest  extent  the  blessedness  of  the 
restraining  pane?  I  did  not  dream  that  you 
could  be  so  inconsiderate    as    to    say    such 
cruel  things  to  one  who  has  evidently  con- 
fessed to  you  not  wisely,  but  too  much. 
310 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

MARIA  DISCOURSES  ON  WIDOWERS.     GERRITT 
HOWLAND  COMES  TO  TEA 

JUNE  13TH  ;— Everything  here  conduces  to 
cheerfulness  and  a  wholesome  attitude  Maria 
toward  life.  Even  Maria,  our  hired  girl,  is 
an  influence  in  this  direction  j  the  word  "girl" 
as  applied  to  her  is  purely  a  matter  of  custom 
and  has  no  reference  to  her  age,  for  she  is  a 
woman  of  fifty,  keen  and  capable  and  of  the 
good  old  New  England  type.  Her  large,  airy 
kitchen  with  its  yellow  painted  floor  and  win- 
dows hung  with  white  muslin  curtains  is  one  of 
the  pleasantest  rooms  I  was  ever  in.  I  like 
to  assist  her  in  the  dish-washing,  or  sit  in  her 
comfortably  cushioned  Boston  rocker  watch- 
ing her  deft  movements  while  I  talk  with 
her.  This  morning  Uncle  Stephen  in  passing 
through  the  kitchen  remarked  on  the  great 
311 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

amount  of  rain  we  have  had  this  season,  and 
Maria  answered, 

"We  ought  to  be  thankful  !     Last  year  it 

An  was  so  dry  here  that  the  buckwheat  was  so 
embarrassing  small  the  bees  ^^  t        t  downon  tneir  hands 


crop 

and  knees  to  get  the  honey  ;  and  folks  talked 

of  lathering  and  shaving  the  fields  in  order  to 
harvest  the  crop." 

Maria  is  very  devoted  to  Uncle  Stephen  and 

Widowers  as  said  of  him  one  day,  "Stephen  Southard  is  the 

seen  by  Maria  salt  of  tlie  eartll?  and  a  most  remarkable  be- 

having widower.  He  hain't  ever  looked  at  a 
woman  since  that  little,  pale-faced,  curly- 
haired  wife  of  his'n  died.  Now  most  men,  just 
as  soon  as  they  are  widowers,  start  on  the  dead 
run  for  the  first  woman  that  heaves  into  sight  ; 
they  are  lots  different  in  that  respect  from 
widows,  who  always  wait  and  pick  and  choose 
the  man  they  want,  if  he  's  to  be  had.  But  a 
widower  ain't  no  wise  particular  about  the 
'who,'  his  mind  is  so  set  on  the  'what.'  Land 
sakes  !  I  don't  wonder  most  married  women 
die  hard  ;  I  suppose  they  are  thinking  about 
what  spectacles  their  husbands  will  be  making 
of  theirselves  as  soon  as  their  eyes  close  and 
312 


GERRITT  HOWLAND  COMES  TO  TEA 

afore  they  fairly  reach  the  first  landing  on  the 
golden  stairs.  If  I  ever  get  married  I  am 
goin'  to  outlive  the  unfortunit  man  just  so 
that  folks  won't  find  out  what  a  fool  he  nat- 
urally is  when  he  is  left  alone." 

"I  wonder  that  you  did  not  get  married 
long  ago,  Maria ;  Aunt  Sylvia  says  you  have 
had  many  good  chances,"  I  said,  hoping  to 
lead  her  on  further. 

"I  don't  know  about  the  goodness  of  my 
chances!     Sometimes  all  it  takes  to  make  a  A  poor  show 
circus  out  of  life  is  two  fools  and  a  ring ;  and 
I  've  always  been  afraid  it  would  n't  be  worth 
the  price  of  admission,"  quoth  Maria. 

JUNE  14TH :— I  spent  this  sultry  afternoon 
in  the  hammock  in  the  orchard.  A  weak  An  afternoon 
little  breeze  felt  its  way  around  and  touched 
my  face  with  cool,  listless  fingers.  The  hens 
trailed  past  me  in  Indian  file,  each  one  keep- 
ing a  suspicious  eye  upon  me  as  she  passed, 
with  beak  open,  gasping  for  breath.  A  vireo 
in  the  tree  above  me  remarked  with  sweet 
garrulousness,  "Wait,  may-be ;  wait,  may- 
be," as  if  I  had  not  already  had  too  much  of 
313 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

waiting  and  maybes  !  Two  yellow  butterflies 
zigzagged  down  the  orchard  aisle  and  called 
my  attention  to  a  view  of  the  hills  through 
the  vista  of  brown-green  apple  branches. 
These  hills  are  not  great  and  rugged,  but  are 
softened  and  beautified  by  long  life.  They 
are  rounded  and  meadowed  and  forested,  even 
to  the  high  far  ones  which  mingle  with  the 
clouds  that  pile  up,  and  cushion  the  horizon. 
They  are  the  kind  of  hills  which  the  drifting 
cloud-shadows  love  to  caress.  So  I  looked 
at  them  and  forgot  the  heat  of  the  day  and 
the  fret  of  existence,  and  my  afternoon  was 
serene. 

My  serenity  has  vanished  to-night  for  I  am 

CJiain  physically  afraid !     I  wonder  if  thunder  af- 

lightning  fec^s  your  teak  sensibilities  unpleasantly !   I 

hope  not,  since  I  must  get  courage  from  you 

to  face  that  great  black  cloud  which  walls  up 

the  western  horizon,  wherein  the  lightning 

makes  jagged  gates  which  shut  with  a  crash 

that  makes  the  earth  tremble.     To  be  blotted 

out  by  a  thunder-bolt  always  seemed  to  me  to 

be  an  unwarrantable  intrusion  upon  human 

rights.  I  think  I  will  keep  awake  to-night  and 

314 


GERRITT  HOWLAND  COMES  TO  TEA 

watch  this  lightning,  lest  it  lap  me  up  as  a  cat 
laps  milk. 

JUNE  15TH  :— Gerritt  Howland  and  his  sister 
were  invited  here  to-night,  and  it  was  a  Company  for 
most  interesting  occasion.  What,  with  all  of  tea 
our  many-course  dinners,  have  we  which  can 
compete  with  one  of  these  old-fashioned  teas : 
grandmother's  china,  as  thin  as  a  wafer ; 
beautiful  old  linen,  polished  as  only  Maria's 
iron  can  polish ;  biscuits  and  honey  fit  for  the 
gods ;  ham  sliced  so  thin  it  resembled  rose 
leaves,  and  damson  preserves,  delicious  be 
yond  description.  But  even  the  feast  was 
not  what  made  this  evening  so  interesting  j 
although  it  did  add  an  artistic  element  not  to 
be  ignored,  with  Uncle  Stephen  in  his  fresh 
gray  linen  suit  at  the  head  of  the  table,  oppo- 
site Aunt  Sylvia  arrayed  in  her  white  muslin 
with  "lavender  sprigs "  trailing  through  it. 
After  tea  we  sat  on  the  piazza,  Uncle 
Stephen  smoking  his  dear  pipe  and  our  guest 
a  cigar  which  suggested  the  city  club.  Gerritt 
sat  near  me  and  in  some  break  in  the  general 
conversation  I  asked : 

315 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

"  Were  there  ever  anywhere  else  such  east- 
ern hills  for  western  shadows  to  climb  t " 

"  They  remind  me  of  Indian  sachems  around 
a  camp  fire, with  their  heads  bowed  upon  their 
knees/7  he  replied. 

"Yesterday  I  climbed  to  the  top  of  the 
west  hill  and  was  surprised  to  find  that  this 
eastern  range  looks  like  veritable  mountains." 

"One  of  the  interesting  facts  about  hills,  as 
An  evidence  well  as  about  some  other  things,  is  that  the 

of  having  j^^  we  get  the  higher  they  seem.     Some- 
attained  a 
higher  plane  times  we  may  doubt  our  growth  upward,  but 

if  we  find  our  horizon  widening,  and  the  world 
in  our  neighborhood  seeming  to  uplift,  then 
may  we  be  comforted." 

"  I  wish  I  had  thy  power  of  coining  inner 
experience  into  the  currency  of  speech,"  I 
replied  enviously. 

"  Gerritt,  she  has  hit  the  nail  on  the  head," 
said  Uncle  Stephen,  who  had  been  listening. 
"  Whatever  people  may  say  about  inspiration, 
it  is  chiefly  the  gift  of  speech  which  makes 
the  preacher." 

"  Uncle  Stephen  believes  in  the  inalienable 
right  of  asses  to  bray,"  laughed  Gerrit,  and 
316 


GEKEITT  HOWLAKD  COMES  TO  TEA 

Uncle  chuckled  appeciatively.  Then  I  took 
up  the  cudgels : 

"After  all,  true  speech  is  inspiration  j  a 
silent  realm  stretches  in  limitless  space  The  coining 

around  each  of  us ;  and  only  through  the  gift  °f the  9°u  ° 

silence  into 
of  genius  is  some  word  brought  over  from  that  speech 

realm  of  silence  to  the  realm  of  the  senses. 
The  one  true  word  is  said  and  the  millions 
who  are  dumb,  rejoice." 

"  Thee  will  spoil  Gerritt,  Marian,  as  all  the 
rest  of  us  do,'7  said  Letitia  fondly. 

"  It  depends  upon  what  a  man  thinks  of 
himself,  and  not  upon  what  others  think  of  what  spoils 
him,  whether  he  can  be  spoiled  or  not,"  an-  a  man 
swered  Gerritt  soberly ;  then  turning  to  me, 
"  Marian,  let  ?s  go  and  climb  the  big  gray  boul- 
der where  we  used  to  play ;  perhaps  it  may 
be  smaller  than  it  was  in  those  days." 

"  Better  go  and  look  at  the  hen-house,  too," 
suggested  Uncle  Stephen,  laughing,  as  we  left 
the  porch. 

"  I  wanted  to  talk  to  thee  alone,  Marian 
Lee,"  said  Gerritt  as  we  followed  the  pasture  A  compre- 

path  up  the  hill.     "  I  saw  in  thy  face  when  I  hens*ve 

question 

met  thee  on  First  Day,  that  thee  has  discov- 
317 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

ered  for  thyself  what  sort  of  a  world  it  is  that 
lies  over  there  beyond  these  hills,  and  I  wanted 
a  chance  to  ask  thee  what  were  thy  conclu- 
sions." 

"  I  found  it  a  volcanic  old  ball,  and  have 
spent  most  of  my  years  schooling  myself  to 
walk  on  hot  lava,"  said  I,  laughing. 

"And  the  serenity  that  shines  from  thy 
face  means  simply  that  thee  has  become  ac- 
customed?" 

"  It  is  not  the  serenity  of  cold  storage,  if 
that  is  what  thee  means,"  I  answered,  still 
scoffing.  "And  thee,  what  has  thee  found 
in  that  world  beyond  the  hills?" 

"  That  in  it  we  manage  somehow  to  do  all 
What  we  of  the  things  of  which  we,  at  first,  disapprove, 

found  in  the  ail(j  thereby  grow  into  great  knowledge  and 
world  beyond 

the  Mils  wisdom,  and  learn  for  a  certainty  the  reasons 

for  our  disapproval." 

"  And  the  good  of  it  and  the  bad  ? " 
queried  I. 

"  Oh,  the  unhappiness  of  being  good  and 
bad  for  others  when  we  are  simply  being  our- 
selves ! " 

"  True,  personal  influence  is  an  appalling 
318 


GEREITT  HOWLAND  COMES  TO  TEA 

mystery.  It  is  the  splash  made  by  the  peb- 
ble, and  the  resulting  waves  may  require  a 
life- time  to  measure,"  I  acquiesced. 

"  It  would  surely  be  vastly  better  if  we 
could  grow  up  without  exerting  influence ;  Uneasy  lies 

and  wait  until  we  are  ripe  before  we  splash  the  head 

that  wears  an 
into  other  people's  lives;"     He  turned  and  in-growing 

looked  at  me   earnestly,  "  One  thing  I  am  crown 
sure  of,  thee  has  lived  facing  the  world,  not 
thyself.    Thine  is  not  the  uneasy  head  that 
wears  an  in-growing  crown !  " 

"  No,  I  do  not  spend  my  time  dropping 
plummets  into  my  inner  deeps.  Deeps  were 
not  made  just  for  fathoming,  but  to  sail  over 
with  a  fair  wind.  But,  tell  me  if  thee  can, 
what  is  all  this  discipline  of  experience  for?  " 

"  That  we  may  finally  be  neither  too  narrow 
to  comprehend  nor  too  broad  to  discrimi- 
nate." 

"  If  that  is  the  end  in  view,  I  fear  too 
many  of  us  are  bowed  and  broken  reeds. 
Has  thee  discovered  any  good  use  for  broken 
reeds  ?  "  I  asked  lightly. 

"  For  Pan  to  pipe  on  if  they  are  broken  in 
right  lengths,"  he  replied  in  the  same  vein ; 
319 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

then  added  more  seriously,  "  If  the  tone  be 

The  tuning  of  good,  why  need  we  ask  what  broke  the  reed  ? 

Pan-pipes  Thee   rememkers  jn   the   old  grammar  the 

definition  of  a  verb  as  signifying  ( to  be,  to  do, 

to  suffer  >  ?    Reverse  the  order  and  it  is  a 

good     formula    for    making    character.     To 

A  verb  suffer  first,  then,  as  a  resource,  to  do  all  the 

formula  ftdngs  which  one  can  lay  hands  to,  and  then 

finally,  to  be." 

We  were  now  standing  by  the  boulder,  and 
he  leaped  to  the  top  with  his  old  agility,  and 
extending  his  hand  said,  merrily : 

"  Come  up,  little  playmate  ! "  then  when  I 
stood  at  his  side  he  continued,  almost  tenderly, 
"  I  cannot  tell  in  mere  words  how  glad  I  am 
to  have  my  playmate  with  me  again." 

"  Jump  me  down  and  I  will  race  thee  back 
to  the  house,"  I  commanded,  and  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,  we  soon  arrived  at  the 
porch,  flushed  and  breathless. 

"  Thee  is  not  good  any  more  j  thee  used  to 
let  me  beat  thee  down  the  hill,"  I  declared 
reproachfully. 

Too  true  to  be      "  I  am  no  longer  too  good  to  be  true,"  he 
laughed. 

320 


GERKITT  ROWLAND  COMES  TO  TEA 

"  Thee  had  better  be  careful  and  not  be  too 
true  to  be  good,"  cautioned  Aunt  Sylvia,  fall- 
ing in  with  our  mood ;  Gerritt  glanced  at  me 
appreciatively. 

The  remainder  of  the  visit  was  pleasing  in 
every  particular.  Gerritt  proved  a  mental 
stimulus  to  the  others  as  well  as  to  myself  j  as 
they  were  leaving  he  said  to  me  so  that  no  one 
else  heard,  "  I  shall  see  thee  again  very  soon." 

I  have  been  thinking  it  all  over  since  I 
came  up  to  my  room,  and  find  that  instead  of  A 

being  as  pleased  as  I  ought  to  be  with  such 

blunder 
an  evening,  I  am  fearful  and  half  annoyed. 

This  question  of  sex  is,  in  this  day  of  social 
complexity,  a  disturbing  element.  What  a 
pity  it  is,  Mr.  Teak-wood,  that  protoplasm 
should  have  split,  back  in  geologic  times,  and 
thus  have  been  obliged  to  climb  down  the  lad- 
der of  the  ages  on  two  feet  instead  of  sliding 
down  on  one.  If  it  had  put  all  its  energies  into 
roots,  stems  and  leaves,  and  had  avoided 
meddling  with  vertebrae  and  souls  and  human 
beings,  this  would  have  been  a  peaceful  and 
well-behaved  planet,  and  a  credit  to  the  solar 
system. 

321 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

All  this  means  that  I  should  like  nothing 
The  trail  of  better  than  to  be  Gerritt  Holland's  play- 
the  serpent  mate .  but  because  I  am  a  self-conscious 
woman,  I  am  obliged  to  think  absurd,  self- 
conceited,  foreboding  thoughts  about  the 
possibility  of  his  falling  in  love  with  me ;  I 
am  disgusted  !  At  the  same  time  I  know  that 
there  was  more  in  Gerritt's  greeting  than  the 
mere  pleasure  of  renewing  an  old  acquain- 
tance. All  too  soon  this  Eden  of  mine  will,  I 
fear,  develop  a  serpent.  However,  I  will  not 
worry  about  it.  If  I  have  stumbled  upon  the 
trail  of  that  "  most  subtle  of  all  beasts,"  as 
the  Bible  naively  calls  it,  there  is  only  the 
merest  tip  of  its  tail  in  sight ;  so  I  will  ignore 
it  and  go  on  with  my  happy  forgetfulness  of 
life  and  its  duties. 

JtnsrE  16TH  :— Do  you  not  think  it  wonderful 

Through  sense  that  I  have  shed  all  my  perplexities  like  soiled 

to  spirit  garments7  an(j  jive  so  wholly  in  the  present  ? 

All  this  day  I  have  given  myself  over  to  June 

and  its  glory  without  reserve.    I  reveled  in 

the  fragrance  of  the  old-fashioned  cinnamon 

roses  which  hedge  one  side  of  the  lawn.    The 

322 


GEREITT  HOW-LAND  COMES  TO  TEA 

green  of  the  meadows,  the  blue  of  the  sky, 
and  the  blood-red  petals  of  the  great  peonies 
made  me  breathless  with  excitement.  When 
I  leaned  against  the  old  sycamore  by  the 
brook,  and  stroked  the  soft  velvet  of  its  trunk 
freshly  freed  from  bark,  I  had  a  sudden  com- 
prehension of  the  riotous  blisses  of  the  satyrs. 
The  songs  of  the  bobolink,  oriole  and  meadow- 
lark  thrilled  and  filled  me  with  ecstacy.  All 
of  these  appeals  to  the  senses  intoxicate  me ; 
and  then,  by  some  strange  alchemy,  sensuous 
joy  is  transmuted  into  spiritual  strength  and 
refreshment. 

JUNE  I?TH  : — No  letter  has  come  to  me  until 
to-day.  I  told  the  family  not  to  write  unless  Postal 
I  was  needed.  So  when  Uncle  Stephen  held  *ondage 
up  this  letter,  as  he  drove  into  the  yard  this 
afternoon,  I  went  out  to  get  it  with  a  reluc- 
tance that  would  have  surprised  him  if  he  had 
noticed  it.  But  my  feelings  were  quite  un- 
necessary, for  the  letter  is  a  most  amusing 
one  from  Joe.  I  suppose  you  will  understand, 
Wise  One,  that  Joe  means  to  convey  to  us  the 
information  that  Millie  will  have  none  of 
323 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

him  5  but  that  he  has  not  lost  courage,  and 
that,  in  the  end,  he  expects  to  win. 

DEAR  MARNEB  : 

A  June-bug  has  just  made  me  a  visit,  and  I  have 
-^  been  making  some  interesting  and  illuminating 
Coleopterous  observations  upon  his  personality  and  methods.  I 
always  did  admire  the  aplomb  with  which  a  June- 
bug  encounters  facts.  He  comes  sailing  in  through 
the  window,  never  doubting  that  the  earth  and  all 
thereon  is  his,  and  flies  about  in  cheerful  zig-zags, 
proclaiming  by  his  buzz  that  his  path  is  toward  the 
light.  Bang,he  goes  into  the  wall !  this  is  his  first 
fact,  and  the  frankness  with  which  he  admits  it  is 
beautiful  to  behold ;  he  falls  backward  heavily, 
waves  his  legs  in  the  air  in  a  manful  effort  to  right 
himself.  Then  he  dazedly  folds  his  wings,  tucking 
them  untidily  beneath  his  wing-covers,  and  sits 
down  to  think,  and  readjust  his  philosophy  on  a 
new  basis  which  shall  take  account  of  this  newly 
discovered  fact. 

After  a  few  moments  of  contemplation  he  lifts  one 
A  philosophy  jeg  high  in  the  air,  in  a  most  derisive  gesture,  as 
which  ignores  much  as  to  ^y  .  «  oh  pghaw  !    I  would  not  give  a 
fig  for  a  philosophy  of  life  that  could  be  affected  by 
anything  so  sordid  as  a  fact ! "  And  up  he  flies  with 
courage  unabated  and  starts  all  over  again.    What 
though  he  is  next  prostrated  through  loftily  ignor- 
ing the  chandelier ;  the  result  is  the  same.    The 

324 


GEEEITT  HOWLAND  COMES  TO  TEA 

light  is  to  him  the  only  thing  in  the  universe  that 
is  worth  while,  and  knocking  himself  senseless  Tlic  light  the 
against  stupid  obstacles  is  only  incidental  to  final  onty  thing 
attainment.  He  knows  that  true  victory  lies  in  the 
struggle  rather  than  in  the  attainment  and  I  have 
just  addressed  him  thus :  "  Oh,  noble  June-bug  ! 
Teach  me  to  develop  a  philosophy  of  action  which 
shall  not  be  weak  and  paltry  enough  to  be  affected 
by  facts.  Teach  me  to  fold  my  wings  and  meditate 
calmly  when  I  am  overwhelmed  and  astounded  by 
the  unexpected  and  the  calamitous.  Teach  me  to 
pursue  my  way  undaunted  by  [stunning  failures. 
Let  me  sit  at  your  six  feet  and  learn  truest  wis- 
dom ! » 

Hope  you  are  having  a  bully  time,  Marnissima, 
but  it  is  darned  lonesome  here  without  you. 

Your  loving 

BRUDDEB. 
P.S. 

Excuse  pencil.  My  fountain  pen  was  profoundly  j^e  ^uimn 
affected  when  it  discovered  my  plot  to  write  to  qualities  of 
you  ;  and  it  wept  tears  of  darkness,  then  became 
comatose.  How  like  mankind  is  a  fountain  pen, 
the  emptier  it  is,  the  more  it  gives  down !  Apho- 
rism !  Ha  ha  !  Mine,  ho  ho ! 

J.  S. 

JUNE  18  :— Another  comforting  service  in  the 

dear,  plain  old  meeting  house.    Gerritt  spoke 

325 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

even  better  than  last  week.     He  came  home 
The  wicked  with  us  to  dinner  and  fitted  into  our  quiet 


tip  of  the  Fij^t  j)ay  afternoon  with  rare  tact     But  I 
serpent's  tail  . 

was  too  conscious  of  that  wee  tip  of  the  ser- 

pent's tail  to  be  quite  as  free  with  him  as  I 
was  before  j  but  I  think  he  did  not  realize 
that  I  was  different  in  my  attitude  towards 
him. 


326 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

A  BEWILDERING  REVELATION 

JUNE    20TH:— Keats     calls     the    private 
ideas  of  a  man  about  Ms  own  life,  his   Weeding  a 

philosophic  back  garden.     I  went  out  in  mine  Philos°phw 

lack-garden 
to-day  and  pulled  up  a  suspicion  by  the  roots 

and  planted  in  its  place  a  broad,  humorous 
smile.  Heaven  be  praised  for  a  sense  of  hu- 
mor !  It  helps  when  all  else  fails. 

Gerritt  came  over  this  morning  and  invited 
me  to  go  for  a  drive  in  a  low  old  phaeton 
drawn  by  a  stout  old  horse  which  drove  her- 
self, and  would  brook  no  interference  from 
the  one  who  held  the  reins.  I  had  qualms 
about  going  with  him ;  but  I  went  because  I 
did  not  know  what  else  to  do,  my  usual  reason 
for  doing  unwise  things. 

"We  took  the  valley  road  j  there  was  not 
enough  breeze  to  flutter  the  weakest-minded 
327 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

poplar  leaf  j  the  bobolinks  were  gurgling  ec- 
statically in  the  meadows,  and  the  orioles 
wove  their  gold  in  and  out  the  roadside  tap- 
estries. My  companion  looked  at  me  approv- 
ingly and  said : 

"Marian  Lee,  I  like  to  see  thee  in  white  j 

Kindly  that   soft  hat  of  thine  looks  like  a  bit   of 

treatment  yonder  cloud  plucked  from  the  sky,  and  is 

vastly  becoming  to  thee.    Life  has  patted  thy 

face  with  gentle  hands  into  fair  roundness, 

instead  of  writing  all  over  it  with  lines  of 

care." 

"I  fear  thee  finds  my  face  lacking  in  char- 
acter, then,'7  ventured  I. 

"By  no  means  ;  not  for  years  have  I  seen  a 
face  that  so  attracts  me  because  of  the  char- 
acter delineated  in  it  as  does  thine." 

"  Gerritt,  thee  must  not  talk  so  to  me  j  it 
is  not  good  for  me  to  listen  to  such  flattery," 
I  rejoined  with  some  severity. 

"  "What  an  utter  barrier  is  worldly  conven- 
The  Chinese  tionality,"  he  answered  with  an  impatient 

wall  of  social  frown>     «  A  man  and  a  WOman  may  walk  to- 
cowventwns 

gether  arm  in  arm  and  be  good  friends  and 

yet  there  is  between  them  always  a  Chinese 
328 


A  BEWILDERING  REVELATION 

wall  that  holds  them  forever  apart.  Let  us 
be  brave  and  understand  each  other  Marian !" 

"  Very  well,  thee  begin,"  I  replied. 

"  Thee  is  afraid  of  me,  Marian  Lee." 

"  No,  I  am  not,"  I  denied  hotly. 

"  Yes,  thee  is  afraid  I  will  fall  in  love  with 
thee." 

"I  fear  thee  has  taken  leave  of  thy  senses, 
to  talk  like  that,"  I  asserted  with  spirit,  but 
with  guilty  conscience. 

"  Now  thee  is  not  honest,"  he  averred, 
looking  at  me  grimly. 

"  Well,  what  is  thee  going  to  do  about  it," 
I  demanded. 

"  I  invited  thee  to  go  with  me  this  morn- 
ing on  purpose  to  tell  thee  something  which  Gerritt 

will  make  thee  honest  with  me  and    make  batters  th* 

wall  down 
thee  trust  me  and  thyself  and  our  relations  so 

that  we  may  be  happy  playmates  as  of  old." 
"  I  am  listening,  declare  the  magic  words," 

I  replied,  with  a  bravado  which  the  occasion 

seemed  to  require. 

"I  belong  heart  and  soul  to  another  woman. 

And  though  thee  has  a  dimple  in  thy  cheek 

and  wears  a  beguiling  hat,  I  could  not  if  I 
329 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

tried  give  thee  more  than  a  playmate's  hon- 
est admiration  and  affection.'7 

"  I  did  not  know  thee  was  to  be  married," 
I  faltered,  for  his  announcement  took  my 
breath  away,  it  was  so  unexpected. 

"  I  shall  never  be  married.    But  for  twenty 
A  declaration  long  years  I  have  belonged  to  a  woman,  and 
another  ^  cou^  no  mor^  sunder  the  ties  which  bind 
woman  me  to  her,  than  could  this  world  of  ours  de- 
flect from    its    orbit.      It  is  a  long   story, 
Marian,  and  I  do  not  mean  to  tell  it  to  thee, 
nor  to  any  one   else.     She  whom  I  love  is 
peerless,  the  one  woman  above  all  others  to 
those  fortunate  enough  to  know  her.     She  is, 
beautiful  and  wise  and  good,  and  so  clever 
that  there  is  interest  and  fascination  in  her 
least  word. 

"  "When  I  first  loved  her  I  was  most  un- 
The  miracle   worthy,  but  through  loving  her  I  have  grown 
of  love  somew]iat7 1  trust.    A  man  must  have  a  stead- 
fast purpose  to  thread  his  deeds  upon,  like 
beads  upon  a  string,  and  my  purpose  has  been 
to  become  worthy  of  her  love  which  she  gave 
me  unquestioningly.      Her   love  wrought  a 
miracle  in  me.     I  stood  before  her  with  only 
330 


A  BEWILDERING  REVELATION 

a  broken  loaf  and  one  little  fish,  and  lo !  I 
had  basketfuls  for  the  multitude." 

"But  why  did  thee  not  marry  her  1 "  I  cried, 
trying  to  fit  his  revelation  to  ordinary  ex- 
perience. 

"  There  was  a  barrier,  and  we  could  not 
marry  j  but  thee  must  not  think  that  it  was 
because  she  belonged  to  another  man— she 
could  never,  under  any  circumstances  become 
involved  in  a  dishonorable  relation.  But 
though  the  barrier  still  holds  us  asunder,  I 
am  happy  in  loving  her.  At  first  it  was  not 
so ;  there  were  years  full  of  loneliness  and,  I 
fear,  recklessness  ;  but  there  came  a  harvest  The  cost  of 
after  the  harrowing,  though  I  sometimes  re-  t  G  arvest 
sented  the  thought  that  the  harvest  should 
be  rich  when  I  suffered  so  keenly  for  its  cul- 
tivation. But  in  the  end  I  was  glad  to  yield 
any  harvest  to  a  world  in  which  she  lives." 

"  If  you  still  love  each  other,  after  all  these 
years,  the  barrier  has  no  right  to  be  there.  If 
I  were  a  man  in  thy  place  I  would  sweep 
that  barrier  out  of  existence  unless  I  could 
leap  over  it,"  I  declared  with  heat. 

"That  would  be  unworthy,  and  perhaps 
331 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

not  for  the  best,"  he  answered  thoughtfully. 
A  satisfying  "  The  grooves  of  our  lives  are  set,  and  I  think 

/cWfOttflfCclfyG 

am  loved  and  the  knowledge  satisfies  my 
heart.  What  can  my  material  life  possibly 
have  to  do  with  my  love !  If  I  wore  upon 
my  life  by  chafing  at  its  logical  and  natural 
development,  or  by  evolving  sorrow  where 
there  is  no  sorrow,  then  would  I  sin  against 
her,  myself  and  humanity.  What  folly  to 
mix  the  distinctly  independent  affairs  of  the 
spiritual  and  material  worlds  !  All  the  selfish 
yearning  and  desire  of  my  earlier  years  have 
come  to  seem  as  but  a  tattered  garment 
which  temporarily  obscured  what  is  beautiful, 
true  and  everlasting."  As  he  said  this  he 
turned  upon  me  his  glowing,  magnetic  eyes, 
and  his  face  was  transfigured.  It  is  a  beauti- 
ful face,  always ;  but  then  it  radiated  spiritual 
light,  and  looked  as  must  the  face  of  an 
The  face  angel.  While  still  holding  me  spellbound 

transfiaured        -n    -i  •  i  •  •          j»  J.-L    -n 

•^y  '    '   with  his  gaze,  he  went  on  in  a  voice  of  thrill- 
ing sweetness : 

"  Oh,  Marian  Lee,  I  am  happy  every  day 
of  my  life  !    I  look  at  and  bless  the  sky,  be 
332 


A  BEWILDERING  REVELATION 

it  blue  or  gray,  because  it  holds  within  its 

arch  her  whom  I  love,  and  me,  loving  her.  Ttie  paltry 

I  bless  the  earth,  because  somewhere  it  re-  love°fmere 

propinquity 
sponds  to  her  footsteps.     No  matter  how  hard 

the  day  or  burdensome  the  care,  the  con- 
sciousness of  her  and  her  love  gives  me  cour- 
age to  go  on.  I  lean  against  her  love  when 
I  am  weary  and  it  supports  me  j  when  I  fall, 
I  reach  up  and  lift  myself  again  to  my  feet 
by  the  strength  of  it.  Those  who  depend 
upon  daily  association  for  the  life  of  love  know 
little  of  its  true  strength,  or  its  power  over 
the  human  soul.  If  I  never  saw  her  nor 
heard  from  her  again,  it  would  be  just  the 
same.  She  and  I  belong  to  eternity  and  there- 
fore must  our  love  be  eternal." 

"  Does  thee  never,  never,  see  her?  "  I  asked 
breathlessly.  A  fleeting  smile  hovered  about 
his  lips,  as  if  in  tender  memory,  and  lie  said 
in  a  dreamy  tone  as  if  to  himself : 

"  Every  year  when  the  lilies-of-the-valley 
bloom,  we  two  make  a  pilgrimage  to  a  little  Lflies-of-tho* 
town  nestled  by  a  stream  in  a  beautiful  val- 
ley,  and  there  amid  the  fragrance  of  the  ex- 
quisite lily  bells,  we  have  one  day  together." 
333 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

At  the  mention  of  these  fateful  flowers,  I 
grew  dizzy  j  my  head  and  my  heart  were  in  a 
confused  whirl.  Could  it  be  this  man  instead 
of  Tom  Carroll  ?  I  tried  to  think,  but  I  was 
too  dazed.  I  knew  that  Ma  Belle  had  some 
acquaintance  with  Gerritt  Howland.  I  knew 
also  that,  tonly  a  short  time  since,  she  sud- 
denly made  a  short  visit  to  a  friend  in  western 
New  York.  I  remembered  that  she  had  in 
previous  years  made  similar  visits  to  this 
friend ;  but  my  knowledge  of  the  friend  and 
the  town  was  vague.  Ma  Belle  has  a  way  of 
forefending  curiosity  concerning  things  which 
she  would  rather  keep  secret,  by  making  the 
matter  so  smoothly  commonplace  that  there 
is  no  point  upon  which  curiosity  may  im- 
pinge. 

The  more  clearly  I  was  able  to  think  about 

A  breathless  it  all,  the  firmer  became  the  conviction  that 

discovery  ^^  man  was  -^  iover?  and  what  she  had  said 

about  my  acquaintance  with  him  was  the 
simple  truth  and  not  a  shining  lie.  And  yet, 
so  utterly  had  I  given  myself  over  to  the  be- 
lief that  Tom  belonged  to  her  in  the  truest, 
deepest  way  that  I  could  not  at  once  divest 
334 


A  BEWILDERING  REVELATION 
myself  of  it.     I  was  incoherent  and  mostly 
silent  during  the  remainder  of  the  drive,  but  A  tangent 
I  slipped  my  hand  into   Gerritt's  alongside  wnpatty 
the  rein,  and  thus  showed  him  my  sympathy 
and  trust.     As  I  left  him  I  said  : 

"  I  thank  thee,  Gerritt,  for  telling  me  this, 
and  I  honor  thee  with  all  my  heart  and  soul." 

"Thank  thee,  playmate,'7  he  replied.  "I 
am  glad  I  have  won  thee  back  again,  though 
I  had  to  show  thee  my  scars  to  accomplish  it." 

"  Yes,  and  I  have  to-day  discovered  that  a 
halo  may  emanate  from  scars  that  shine,"  I  Scars  that 
said  softly,  and  we  bade  each  other  good-bye  shine 
with  a  long,  warm  hand-clasp. 

When  I  went  into  the  house,  I  wished  to 
escape  from  sight  in  order  to  think  it  all  over 
and  try  to  realize  what  it  all  meant  to  me, 
but  Aunt  Sylvia  called  me  upstairs  to  the 
garret  where  she  was  overhauling  trunks. 
She  had  found  there  a  pretty  pink  muslin 
dress  of  Aunt  Emily's,  which  was  made  in  a 
fashion  very  like  that  in  vogue  at  the  present 
time  ;  she  was  quite  excited  over  her  find  and 
insisted  on  trying  it  on  me  at  once ;  I  was  A  gratuitous 
grateful  that  her  attention  was  focussed  on  a 
335 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

pink  dress  rather  than  on  a  pink  face,  for  I 
somehow  felt  as  guilty  as  if  Gerritt  Howland 
had  confessed  the  love  which  I  feared  he 
would,  instead  of  the  love  which  I  never  sus- 
pected. Aunt  Sylvia  attributed  the  flush  in 
my  cheeks  to  the  becoming  color  of  the  dress ; 
she  declared  the  fit  perfect  and  that  Maria 
should  launder  this  treasure  trove  at  once  so 
that  I  could  wear  it  during  my  visit.  She 
did  not  need  to  explain  how  it  was  that  rose- 
A  Friendly  colored  garb  should  please  Quaker  eyes.  I 
weakness  aiwayS  knew  that  Aunt  Emily's  worldly  gowns 
were  as  great  a  delight  to  Aunt  Sylvia  as  they 
were  to  the  owner. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

SOME  VERY  SATISFACTORY  LETTERS 

JUNE  21ST :— Dear  Idol,  three  letters  came 
to-day,  each  quite  characteristic  of  its 
writer,  and  all  of  them  giving  evidence  that 
my  flight  to  this  delectable  land  was  for  the 
good  of  others  as  well  as  for  my  own  spiritual 
refreshment.  Even  Joe  and  father  may  profit 
somewhat  by  my  absence  since  I  can  make 
them  happier  than  ever  when  I  return  to 
them;  my  perplexities  for  the  past  months 
have  alienated  my  attention  from  my  very 
own  family.  Here  is  Joe's  letter : 

DEAR  MARNIE  : 

The  June-bug  tactics  are  winning  the  game. 
Millie  has  not  said  *  yes '  as  yet ;  but  her  '  no  »  is 
reiterated  diminuendo.  She  is  surely  capitulating, 
after  having  spread  a  stiff  brand  of  agony  over 
yours  truly  for  the  past  three  months. 
337 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

If  you  stay  away  very  much  longer,  the  pater 
and  I  will  both  get  married  or  else  take  to  the  tall 
grass ;  we  need  feminine  influence  to  brace  us  up. 
If  there  is  any  way  in  which  I  can  stimulate  your 
interest  in  your  forlorn  men-folk,  just  let  me  know 
and  I  will  be  at  ifc. 

Your  loving,  lonesome 

JOSEPH  STILLMAN,  ESQ. 

I  confess  I  dreaded  to  open  the  letter  from 

Not  even  a  Theodore    Morris  j  when    one    buries    some 

gravestone  fl^Dgs,  one  would  rather  that  the  earth  were 

stamped  down  above  them,  and  that  there 

should  never  be  any  sign  of  them  anywhere 

or  any   more.     On  the  whole,   though,  the 

letter  is  a  relief  ;  I  think  you  will  see  why. 

MARIAN: 

Since  your  letter  came  I  have  been  trying  to 
realize  what  it  means.  That  I  have  failed  in  gain- 
ing the  greatest  desire  of  my  life  must  be  some- 
how my  own  fault.  I  felt  so  sure  of  winning 
you  at  first ;  later,  I  grew  to  doubt  myself  and  my 
power  to  make  you  happy. 

Had  you  been  here,  I  might  have  pleaded  with 
A  far  more  you  to  give  me  more  time  before  you  decided. 
satisfactory  But  after  these  days  of  thinking  it  over,  I  believe 
friend  than  l  Qwe  it  to  to  accept  your  decision  as  final. 

lover  ,      , 

Do  not  stay  away  on  my  account.    Come  back 

338 


SOME  VERY  SATISFACTORY  LETTERS 

soon  and  I  will  promise  to  be  to  you  a  more  suc- 
cessful and  satisfactory  friend  than  I  have  been 
lover.  Yours  faithfully, 

THEODORE. 

I  think  this  letter  shows  plainly  that  he  is 
conscious  of  his  feelings  toward  Hilda,  and  Happiness 

that  he  has  been  fighting  them  down  because  ^  tlie 

horizon 
of  loyalty  to  me.    Hilda's  letter  confirms  this 

impression,  and  I  think  you  will  agree  with 
me  that  the  near  future  holds  great  happiness 
for  her ;  she  says : 

DEARLY  BELOVED  : 

I  venture  to  break  in  on  your  rest  with  the 
statement  that  we  are  desolate  without  you.  I 
went  over  to  your  house  last  evening  ;  your  pa's 
hair  was  standing  on  end  because  he  had  been  run- 
ning his  fingers  through  it  trying  to  think  up  means 
of  placating  Maggie  and  Mary  who  had  been 
quarrelling ;  he  was  wearing  his  dressing  gown 
down  stairs  and  had  been  having  interviews  with 
students  while  thus  arrayed.  Cigar  ashes  were 
liberally  distributed  over  the  study  table.  'Joe 
was  smoking  with  his  heels  elevated  to  the  top 
of  your  best  mahogany  chair;  and  both  allowed 
that  you  had  best  come  home  immediately  if  you 
would  prevent  the  complete  demoralization  of  your 
entire  establishment. 

339 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

If  you  could  see  the  forlorn  way  your  devoted 

Hilda  knight,  Mr.  Morris,  prowls  around,  you  would  feel 

elucidates  a  tug  at  your  heart  strings,  if  perchance  your  heart 

the  situation  has  any  stringg  attached  to  it.    I  am  doing  my 

prettiest  to  console  him;  yesterday  I  took  him  for 

a  long  walk  over  South  hill.    He  is  a  sympathetic 

chap  to  be  out  of  doors  with,  is  n't  he  ?  We  are 

practicing  like  mad  almost  every  evening  on  some 

new  music,  so  that  we  may  give  you  the  concert  of 

your  life  when  you  get  back.    I  talk  to  him  about 

A  very  you,  making  praiseful  and  therefore  unveracious 

discreet  remarks  anent  your  appearance  and  character,  and 

young  m  n  ^e  answers— not  one  word.    He  simply  looks  far 

away,  and  says  nothing. 

I  hope  you  are  having  a  beautiful  time,  and  that 
you  are  getting  the  much-needed  rest.  I  trust  you 
will  come  back  to  us  soon  with  verve  radiating  like 
a  nimbus  from  your  blessed  person. 

Devotedly  and  lovingly, 

HILDA. 

Most  Discreet  of  Confessors !  I  will  admit 
that  the  way  T.  M.  has  of  never  speaking  of 
his  own  private  experiences  is  a  comfort  to 
me  now.  I  blush  with  contrition  when  I 
remember  how  I  once  complained  to  you 
about  his  steadfast  defence  of  his  own  pre- 
serves. I  know  now,  and  I  rejoice  that  I  do 
340 


SOME  VEKY  SATISFACTORY  LETTERS 

know,  that  lie  will  never  by  word  nor  sign  re- 
veal to  Hilda  the  experience  which  lies  be- 
tween him  and  me.  His  lips  are  clamped 
tight  for  all  eternity.  Heaven  be  praised ! 

Some  men,  usually  reliable,  are  led  in  the 
first  flush  of  loving,  to  talk  freely  of  past  loves  Hi-advised 
for  the  sake  of  the  last  love  ;  not  so  much  for  confid™<» 
her  edification  as  for  the  comfort  of  talking 
about  intimate  things  with  her.  Rarely  does 
such  confession  justify  itself,  or  lead  to  aught 
but  the  later  undoing  of  him  who  confesses. 
If  he  does  not  marry  the  woman  to  whom  he 
has  detailed  these  intimate  experiences,  he 
has  reason  to  be  sorry  that  she  knows  so 
much ;  and  if  he  does  marry  her,  then  all  the 
more  does  he  have  reason  to  be  sorry  that  she 
knows  so  much. 

Women  are  still  more  prone  than  men  to 
break  this  seal  of  secrecy  which  the  honorable  Men,  uneasy 
would  seem  bound  to  keep  intact,  since  such  confes$ors 
confessions  always  involve  two.     Fortunately, 
women  have  been  more  or  less  protected  from 
this  temptation  to  treason,  because  of  the  reluc- 
tance  of  men  to  become  their    confessors. 
Nothing  bores  a  man  so  much  as  to  listen  to 
341 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN   IDOL 

a  woman  talk  about  a  love  of  which,  he  him- 
self is  not  the  sole  object. 

JUNE  22D:— This  evening  after  Aunt  and 
Uncle  had  gone  to  call  on  a  convalescing 
neighbor,  Gerritt  Howland  came.  His  face 
was  more  eloquent  than  ever  as  I  gave  him 
both  my  hands  in  greeting ;  for  I  was  very 
glad  to  see  him,  since  I  had  come  to  the 
determination  to  tell  him  what  I  knew.  So 
with  a  little  catch  in  my  breath  because  of 
my  excitement  and  temerity,  I  began  with- 
out preface  or  warning. 

"Gerritt,  I  know  who  she  is ;  only  a  little 

In  medias  res  time  ago  she  told  me  her  side  of  the  story  for 
the  sake  of  helping  me  in  'a  crisis  of  my  own 
life.  I  was  so  stupid  the  other  day,  not  to 
know  that  it  was  she  when  thee  was  telling 
me  of  her,  for  every  word  thee  said  of  her 
was  true." 

"Yes,  Marian,  I  knew  it,"  he  answered  with 

A  mutual  love  an  illuminating  smile.     "I  did  not  speak  to 

thee  of  her  wonderful  letters  which  come  to 

me  every  month  of  the  year,  keeping  me  close 

to  her  life  and  giving  me  the  sustaining  com- 

342 


SOME  VERY  SATISFACTORY  LETTERS 

fort  which  I  need  in  my  arduous  work  with 
my  fellow-men.  Her  last  letter  told  me  of 
her  confession  to  thee  j  and  I  was  very  glad, 
for  I  think  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  her  to  speak 
of  her  inner  life  to  thee  whom  she  loves  more 
than  any  other  woman." 

"I  can  understand  now  how  true  was  all 
thee  said  yesterday ;  for  it  would  mean  more  Hidden 
to  any  man  to  be  truly  loved  by  her  than  it 
would  to  be  married  to  any  other  woman  in 
the  whole  world.  I  have  no  words  to  express 
my  own  adoration  of  her.  It  almost  makes 
my  heart  stop  beating  when  I  think  of  what 
thee  and  thy  love  have  meant  to  her  all  these 
years.  I  have  always  felt  that  she  drew  her 
life  from  hidden  springs,  and  now  I  am  be- 
ginning to  comprehend." 

A  silence  full  of  feeling  fell,  not  between  us 
but  encompassing  us  around  and  holding  us 
near  to  each  other  because  both  our  hearts 
were  turned  toward  her.  After  a  time  I  went 
on,  hesitatingly,  fearing  lest  I  might  not  be 
saying  the  right  word : 

"I  believe  that  she  needs  thee  and  needs 
thy  presence  more  during  these  later  years 
343 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

since  she  has  not  been  so  strong.     I  feel  this 

A  deep-laid  deeply  as  I  look  back  over  the  past  year  in 

scheme  j.ne  light  of  my  new  knowledge.     And  I  have 

dared  to  dream  during  the  past  twenty-four 

hours,  that,  through  me,  she  may  have  thee 

with  her  more.  Thee  shall  often  be  my  guest? 

if  I  can  have  my  way,  and  thus  give  her  more 

of  the  companionship  for  which  I  know  she 

yearns." 

"  We  shall  see,  dear  little  schemer,  we  shall 
see  ! "  he  replied  tenderly,  though  enigmati- 
cally. And  then  the  sound  of  approaching 
Toices  told  us  that  our  talk  was  at  an  end. 


344 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE    DAWN    OP    A    JUNE    DAY    AND    A    LAST 
CONFESSION 

JUNE   23D  :— To-day  came  another  letter! 
However  many  times  I  read  it,  I  cannot 
comprehend  all  it  means.    Teach  me,  I  pray 
yon,  its  reality. 

MABIAN: 

Last  evening  I  spent  with  Madam  Lee  and  she 
told  me  something  which  has  shaken  me  to  the  His  letter 
foundation.  That  you  should  seriously  consider 
marrying  again  is  almost  beyond  my  powers  of 
conception.  That  you  should  hesitate  a  moment 
in  giving  his  conge  to  this  presuming  young  Apollo 
(confound  him!)  gave  me  the  shock  of  my  life. 

Marian,  I  fear  I  have  been  blind  and  a  fool;  but 
thanks  to  Madam  Lee,  I  am  just  beginning  to  see. 
I  fear  I  have  always  loved  you,  dear,  since  those 
days  when  you,  a  poor  little  broken-hearted 
creature  turned  to  me  for  help  and  comfort.  I  will 
speak  plainly  Marian,  at  the  risk  of  hurting 
345 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

you:  I  was  Paul's  dearest  friend;  and,  because  he 
was  dead,  I  could  not  feel  that  I  had  any  more 
right  to  win  the  love  of  his  wife  than  if  he  had  been 
living. 

During  all  these  years  I  have  lived  on,  taking 
A  sacrifice  to  only  what  I  thought  was  right  from  his  mother 
loyalty  an(j  bis  wife,  giving  up  the  dearest  wish  of  a  man's 
heart  for  wife  and  home,  because  I  could  not  give 
to  another  what  I  might  not  give  to  you.  Some- 
times I  have  felt  in  you  the  possibility  of  giving  to 
me  what  I  longed  for;  at  such  times  I  have  fought  for 
self-control  and  there  have  been  days  and  weeks 
when  I  remained  away  from  you  in  order  to  get 
strength  to  be  with  you  again  without  betraying 
myself  and  him. 

Last  night,  Paul's  mother  brought  me  to  judg- 
Ulies-of-the-  ment.  She  believes  I  have  done  you  wrong  be- 
v alley  cause  I  have  not  offered  to  you  the  love  which  is 
yours  despite  myself,  and  the  protection  and 
devotion  which  I  long  to  give  you.  Dear,  I  do 
not  even  remember  how  long  I  have  consciously 
loved  you  thus ;  but  there  is  in  my  desk  a  withered 
bunch  of  flowers  tied  with  a  purple  ribbon,  which 
you  wore  one  night  fifteen  years  ago,  and  which 
fell  at  my  feet  for  me  to  treasure  because  it  had 
been  so  near  to  you. 

That  you  have  looked  upon  the  matter  very 
differently  and  probably  more  sanely  than  have  I, 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  you  have  considered  the 
346 


A  LAST  CONFESSION 

possibility  of  marrying  again.  Marian,  do  you  not 
know  in  your  heart  of  hearts  that  you  belong  to 
me  now  ?  You  are  mine  by  all  that  is  sacred— by 
all  the  denied  longing  of  these  many  years.  My 
^eart  demands  you  every  moment,  and  I  am 
coming  to  you  to  give  to  you,  if  you  will  deign  to 
take  him,  the  man  who  has  done  you  wrong  while 
trying  to  do  right. 

T.  L.  O. 


My  Confessor,  how  am  I  to  orient  myself 
again  with  happiness  ?     For  many  years  I  Too  great 
have  stanchly  faced  loss  and  loneliness  but  MRP*** 
I  find  myself  afraid  and  bewildered  in  the 
presence  of  great  joy.    I  cannot  even  dream 
what  to-morrow  will  bring. 

JUNE  24TH :— Last  night  I  slept  only  spas- 
modically.   I  heard  the  shriek  of  the  midnight  Couleur  de 
train  from  the  city  and  it  sent  a  thrill  quaver-  r 
ing  into  my  fitful  dream.     This  morning  I 
heard  the  first  notes  of  the  bird  concert  and  I 
arose  and  plaited  my  hair,  girl-fashion  and 
tied  it  with  a  rose-red  ribbon  ;  and  I  put  on 
the    rose-colored    dress    which    was    Aunt 
Emily's.    There  was  no  hue  but  couleur  de  rose 
347 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

that  was  fitting  to  wear  at  the  dawn  of  this 
morning. 

I  stole  out  of  the  house,  across  the  dewless 
The  grass  and  hurried  down  the  road  in  the  dim 
dawn-wind  light.  I  was  restless  and  found  sweet  com- 
panionship in  the  dawn-wind,  which  is 
different  from  any  other  wind  that  blows. 
It  comes  in  the  faint  light  of  the  morning 
when  the  world  is  so  expectantly  still,  and  by 
its  presence  heralds  the  coming  of  the  day. 
It  does  not  stir  the  branches,  but  it  sets  the 
leaves  astir.  It  is  the  very  essence  of  unrest ; 
it  goes  in  and  out  the  leaves  turning  them 
white-side  out  as  if  in  search  of  something 
beneath  them.  It  is  fitful,  shaking  one  tree 
into  a  blur  of  whiteness  and  ignoring  its 
nearest  neighbors.  The  sound  of  it  is  a 
whisper  of  restlessness  j  and  as  it  reaches  the 
ear,  the  heart  responds  with  a  thrill  of 
inquietude  over  the  immutable  law  of 
awakening. 

I  passed  on  with  this  companion  of  my  mood, 

the  vagrant  dawn -wind,  and  tried  to  unite 

myself  to  the  whole  awakening  world,  so  that 

I  might  be  large  enough  to  comprehend  the 

348 


A  LAST  CONFESSION 

joy  which  was  coming  to  me.  Was  it  your 
occult  influence,  or  sheer  prescience  that  sent 
me  hurrying  on  eager  feet,  under  the  rosy 
light  of  the  dawn,  to  meet  my  love  f  I  know 
not ;  but  out  of  the  fleeing  shadows  he  came, 
and  as  he  drew  near  he  cried  : 

"  Is  it  a  vision  of  a  dream  or  is  it  Marian  !  " 
I  said  naught,  but   went  unto  him  j  and 
while  he  held  me  close,  he  let  his  heart  over-   Tte  dawn 
flow  in  two  syllables,  the  beginning  words  on 
the  page  of  my  new  book  of  life. 

JUNE  25TH :— Dear  Idol,  I  confess  in  meter 
to-night. 

I  fain  would  be  June's  own  interpreter, 

And  put  in  words  the  soul  that  underlies  jwu 

The  glorious  green  that  stretches  to  the  skies,          regnant 

Enfolding  hill  and  vale  as  if  it  were 

A  sentient  mantle,  wove  from  threads  astir 

With  throbbing  life.    'T  is  June  which  deifies 

All  earth  and  makes  us  Pantheists,  likewise 

Awakes  the  poet  in  each  worshipper. 

O  glinting  leaf  with  vagrant  breeze  atilt ! 
Thy  joyous  thrill  I  fain  would  incarnate. 
349 


CONFESSIONS  TO  A  HEATHEN  IDOL 

O  swaying  bird  that  sends  the  blithe  June  lilt 
From  tip  of  fine-spun  larch !  show  me  the  gate 
Which  leads  from  heart  to  voice.      Teach  an  thou 

wilt 
How  I  may  too  great  joy  to  song  translate. 


SEPTEMBER  IST,  1906  :— One  year  ago  to-day 

An  ambushed  I  began  my  confessions  to  you,  O  Idol !     And 

pathway  nQ   Qne  WOIQ(J   ever   guess    by    looking   at 

the  two  of  us  that  we  had  traversed  so  in- 
timately, together  the  year's  ambushed  path- 
way.    And  now  despite  my  former  tenet  that 
Noah's  fatuity   was   responsible  for  second 
marriages,  I  am  married  again.     But  you, 
above  all  others,  Dear  Confessor,  will  under- 
stand that  getting  married  to  Tom  is  quite 
a  different  matter  from  getting  married  to 
anybody  else  whomsoever.     Probably,  taking 
matters  by  and  large,  Old  Noah  was  justified. 
This  day  I  make  my  last  confession  to  you. 
A  last   I  feel  that  before  I  abandon  you,  I  should  like 
confession  ^Q  tell  vou  tkat  love  is  widely  and  deeply 
comfortable  when  one  knows  how  to  take  it. 
The  noblesse  oblige  of  it  is  not  hard  outside 
pressure,  but  is  instead,  an  inside  power  of 
350 


A  LAST  CONFESSION 

growing—  a  natural  and  therefore  an  uncon- 
scious uplifting. 

I  do  not  cease  my  confessions  because  I 
believe  that  I  shall  have  nothing  of  deepest  The  reason  a 

interest  to  confess.     Far  from  it !    Married  wife  need8  ™ 

confessor 
life  is  always  the  beginning  and  not  the  end 

of  interesting  and  perplexing  experiences. 
But  let  me  whisper  something  to  you,  Wise 
One  :  "When  a  woman  is  married  she  confesses 
to  no  one,  not  even  to  a  broad-minded  teak- 
wood  idol.  The  right  kind  of  a  wife  never 
confesses  even  to  herself.  That  is  a  funda- 
mental part  of  true  marriage— never  con- 
fessing. You  may  see  with  those  uplifted 
eyes  of  yours  what  you  will  of  my  present  all- 
embracing  happiness,  or  of  my  future  efforts 
to  keep  it  intact.  See  what  you  may,  and  set 
me  a  good  example  by  smiling  on  and  on  des- 
pite inner  pangs  5  and  above  all  remember 
this,  my  last  word  to  you  :  Life  with  all  its  Why  life  is  so 

blisses  and  sorrows,  its  ecstasies  and  common- 

good 
places  is  mightily  worth  while  to  us  mortals, 

because,  bad  or  good,  it  is  ever  and  always  so 
surprisingly  interesting. 


351 


HOME  USE 

CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 

MAIN  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 
1-month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling  642-3405. 
6-month  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books 

to  Circulation  Desk. 
Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior 

to  due  date. 

ALL  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  RECALL  7  DAYS 
AFTER  DATE  CHECKED  OUT. 

APR1     197f.        ~ 
1          ".    .,„    2'] 


LD21 — A-40m  8/75  General  Library 

(S7737L)  University  of  California 

Berkeley 


:     : 


